At the Boundary
by JohnRSoviet
Summary: When Beacon fell, Mistral was beset on all sides by Grimm. With Huntsmen and Huntresses going missing, the Mistral council took to hiring mercenary troops to fill in the gaps. Gawain Grunwald, a Beacon Academy survivor and newest employee of his father's private security company, is tasked with protecting Mistral's southern border. But something sinister is waiting in the forests.
1. A Wolf in Dog's Clothing

"Mistral's in a bad way."

Mordred took a seat behind his desk. His office was decorated with trinkets and curios from all over Remnant. An ornamental tea set from Mistral, a sandstone sculpture from Vacuo, an antique clock from Vale; all a testament to his former career as an Atlesian Intelligence officer. Most faunus would have a tough time coming up in Atlesian society, and Mordred was no different, but he rose through the ranks regardless. His saving grace: being very good at his job. His calm demeanor and firm posture spoke to his professionalism, while his false left eye and matching ripped lynx ear marked his valor.

The aged lynx faunus spent most of his time in an office, gathering information for a private security firm. The firm, Grunwald Security, was based in Atlas, with branches in Vacuo and Mistral. News from the Mistral branch was rapidly becoming distressing.

Across from Mordred sat Gawain, a fresh recruit to Grunwald Security. Mordred had personally scouted him for their Special Tasks Group. Gawain's academic record at Beacon Academy was impeccable, and since being recruited he had already flawlessly completed two missions for the company. Mordred prided himself on having a keen eye for talent, and knew Gawain had the makings of a promising covert agent. Strong, competent, and most importantly, devoid of personal attachments.

The poor young man lost his friends and comrades when Beacon Academy fell. The only family he had left was the company. Gawain was a Grunwald, and he was the son of the same Grunwald that owned Grunwald Security.

"In a bad way how?"

He sat in his dress uniform, a freshly minted First Lieutenant in Grunwald Security's Armed Forces. When standing, he was as tall as a door and almost as wide at the shoulders. His jet black hair was combed back, keeping his bangs out of his eyes and conveniently obscuring his own second set of ears, those of a wolf. The young man was not without his own marks of valor, either. A scar came down his right eye, leaving the eye itself intact but cutting through his eyebrow. Another scar came from under the left side of his jaw, almost reaching his cheek. Both were earned in the defense of Beacon Academy. Gawain's green eyes were bright with an intense focus. The boy was ready for a mission.

"The White Fang again?"

"Not necessarily. The White Fang is definitely moving, but those cells near Windpath you took out helped to blunt their advances. No, this is different. Ever since Beacon fell, Grimm attacks have been on the rise."

Mordred threw a stack of papers onto the desk. Gawain glanced them and made them out as incident and casualty reports.

"This was always within the realm of possibility. A Huntsman Academy was lost, and the CCT Network was disabled. I'm sure the entire world was awash in anxiety. And anxiety draws Grimm like flies to a carcass."

Gawain's face remained unchanged. All of this he had already surmised. It's common knowledge that the creatures of Grimm are attracted to negative emotions. A wide reaching catastrophe like the Fall of Beacon was bound to cause them to stir. Mordred resumed.

"But while a worldwide spike in Grimm activity was expected, what wasn't expected was the length and intensity of the spike, especially in only one region. Our reports say that Mistral's borders have been ravaged by Grimm for the past several months, and not just common beowolves and ursi either. Grimm that have been dormant for decades are coming out of the woodwork. Grimm that can wipe out entire villages single-handedly. Patrol and Search and Destroy missions that normally could've been completed in a week are taking over a month, if they're being completed at all. A large number of huntsmen are missing, presumed dead. We're not immune to this either."

Mordred gestured to the stack of papers.

"Last month, the entire Third Cohort of our Mistral Branch was wiped out. Utterly. No survivors."

At Grunwald Security, a cohort was a battalion of 500 troops. And not just regular soldiers either, there were usually 10-20 huntsmen attached to a single cohort at any given time. Gawain stood up out of his chair.

"T-that's not possible! An entire cohort!? How!?"

Mordred raised a steady hand.

"Calm down, son."

Gawain sat

"Your father had the exact same reaction. Those were good men we lost, and there's a lot of families that we need to notify, but before we write those letters we need to be able to tell those families exactly what happened. We sent scouts to try determine the cause. The second and third cohorts had been contracted by the Mistral government to help secure their borders at the wilderness. The Second Cohort had been broken up into its respective Spears to go on patrols, while the Third was to remain stationed as a standing army, to deploy as a reaction force. Aside from the occasional pack of Grimm, the Second reported nothing unusual, but as far as we could tell, a massive hoard of Grimm swept over the Third Cohort's camp in the dead of night. They weren't the typical Mistral natives either. The markings and wounds left behind didn't seem to indicate any known type of Grimm. And the execution... I can't imagine any army that could survive such a perfect attack."

"You make it sound like the Grimm had planned this. Are you suggesting that the Grimm are capable of tactics now?"

"I'm suggesting that a huge Grimm horde evaded the Second Cohort's patrols and struck us where it would hurt the most. This was not something a roaming pack of beasts would do. Changes in Grimm behavior have been startling over the past year. Until this recent development, I thought the Grimm attacking Beacon Academy were opportunists, capitalizing on the White Fang's attack... But there are rumors circulating that the White Fang's next target might be Haven Academy. The same time the Grimm in the region are becoming more dangerous than ever."

"So now you think there's some kind of collusion between the Grimm and the White Fang?"

"No. Not active collusion at any rate. But there appears to be an odd symbiosis at work. It's hard to tell if the White Fang are organizing themselves around the Grimm's presence, or if it's the other way around."

"With all due respect, sir, that sounds crazy. It makes sense if the White Fang launches an attack, that would bring in Grimm. I can't imagine that the Grimm are somehow aware of the White Fang's intentions and are coordinating around them."

"Unfortunately, it's my job to consider every possibility. I need to know for sure what kind of connection these Grimm and the White Fang have, if any, which is why I called you in here. I have a new mission for you."

Mordred dropped a folder with the words "OPERATION: STENOLEMUS" in large print across the top.

"I'm sending you to Mistral. Officially, you'll be operating under the name 'Tristan Evergreen'. You'll be given command of the first spear of the Second Cohort's Timber Company."

"Command? A Spear is anywhere from 40-50 troopers, with a few huntsmen thrown in for good measure."

"You once led a team at Beacon, correct? So this won't be uncharted territory for you. On the record, you'll be under Captain Corcra. Follow his orders, conduct your patrols, lead your spear, do your job as his lieutenant."

"Why the alias?"

"You're the CEO's son. That can draw unnecessary attention, and people tend to be less honest around the boss's kid. But Tristan Evergreen is just a normal lieutenant, trying to make his way and do his job. Plus, I figured it would be a nice way to test your acting skills."

"So it's training, too?"

"In a way. You're in intelligence now. Wet-work like what you did in Windpath is one thing, but that's only one half of covert ops. I want you to keep your eyes and ears open for anything that might be unusual about the Grimm in the area, and report it directly to me, understand? The details are in that folder. Consider yourself briefed. Dismissed."

Gawain grabbed the folder from the desk and began reading through the files within.

"Understood, Commander Dusk." Gawain closed the folder and made his way to the door.

"Oh and Gawain,"

Gawain was prompted to turn back.

"If you manage to determine who, if anyone, is managing to coordinate the Grimm for another attack, do not engage. Report to me first and wait for orders."

Gawain nodded, "Understood, Commander Dusk."

…

The flight to Southern Mistral was a roundabout one. Roving packs of Lancers, giant wasp-like Grimm, had forced a number of course corrections, adding almost half a day to Gawain's overall travel time. Eventually he had managed to touch down near Ikebana as the sun was setting. Ikebana was a middle-sized town about 40 kilometers southwest of Kuchinashi, the nearest major city. Being closer to the boundary that marked where the Kingdom ended and the outer settlements began, the residents were understandably nervous about the increased presence of soldiers and huntsmen. Particularly when most of the soldiers were mercenaries.

Fortunately, Ikebana was still under the Kingdom's protection, and the Kingdom had hired Grunwald Security to make sure it stayed protected. Gawain was careful to take notice of how the locals reacted to him as he exited his airship. He was no longer in his dress uniform, but in his combat attire: A black and green shirt covered by a dark green long coat, with dark grey armor adorning his thighs and lower legs and armored gloves that covered all the way to his elbow. A dark gunmetal helmet, fashioned in a style after the medieval knights of Mantle covered his head and obscured his face. On his shoulders were ornamental wolf-head spaulders that were sown onto the coat. The rest of his belongings he carried in a pack he held under one arm. The Grunwald Security logo: a green silhouette of a dog's head in profile, was emblazoned on the back of the coat. It was the same symbol that served as the Grunwald's family crest.

Before the Great War, the symbol was regarded as a wolf's head, but afterwards was rebranded to appear less "aggressive". He was advertising himself as a Grunwald soldier. You can tell a lot about how good of an occupying force of soldiers are doing by how the residents being occupied respond to more showing up. There didn't appear to be any anger or disgust; a promising sign. But neither was there any relief or excitement in any of the citizens' faces. If anything, there was a sense of melancholy in the way they looked at Gawain, almost as if they pitied him.

Gawain was reminded of when he used to visit Mistral when he was younger. His uncle Erin ran the Mistral branch of Grunwald Security, so he spent quite a few summers in Kuchinashi. The city was beautiful to the passerby, but Erin had been sure to point out to Gawain its dangerous side. A turn down the wrong alley in the wrong neighborhood could be just as deadly as any Grimm. Kuchinashi was, afterall, a large hub city. It was a place that attracted all kinds of people from all over the kingdom, both for better and for worse.

As a faunus, Gawain was always wary of how people looked at him. As often as he tried to keep his ears covered or obscured in his youth, he needed to remain guarded just in case his facade failed. He would look for people's reactions to him, just as he was now. Gawain could handle anger and disgust, he had his whole life, but pity was different. He was unaccustomed to dealing with pity.

Ikebana was a rustic town. Most of the inhabitants worked trades and owned their own shops. Farmers from north of the town brought in crops to sell in the market. Children ran about in the street, playing games and attempting to evade their exasperated caretakers. It was the kind of town where everyone knew each other, and news was likely to spread fast. It was a warm town. A town Gawain was now tasked to protect.

Gawain made his way through the town to a small outpost just outside Ikebana's border. The outpost constituted of a single guard tower encircled with a hastily constructed wooden palisade. A flag with the green Grunwald Security sigil hung from one of the walls. Within the palisade were dozens of tents, neatly arranged in a predetermined grid. G-Sec had long since standardized its encampment layout amongst all its branches, to ensure that any G-Sec soldier walking into any G-Sec camp would know exactly where everything was without needing to ask. Thanks to this, Gawain knew exactly were the commander's tent would be.

Outside the commander's tent was a young private at attention. Her standard issue Dust rifle was slung over her shoulder. She seemed to Gawain to be a typical Grunwald soldier, though he noted that her eyes seemed slightly sunken, likely due to a lack of sleep. She stopped him at the tent's entrance.

Gawain removed his helmet and introduced himself as Tristan Evergreen, and showed the private his scroll for verification. After looking it over, the private announced Gawain's presence to the Captain and ushered him inside.

Captain Fabian Corcra's tent was surprisingly unkempt, considering how spic and span the rest of the camp had appeared. His cot wasn't made, his desk was covered in half-eaten meals and disheveled stacks of paper, and there was all manner of trash on the floor. The man himself didn't fare much better. Corcra appeared a slightly overweight man of about 40. His black hair was starting to give way to silver at the sides, his round face was dotted with a patchy beard, and his dress uniform was covered in all manner of stains. The Captain looked like he had just finished a week long bender, but his eyes lit up upon seeing Gawain.

"There you are, lieutenant!"his voice was uncannily warm for his appearance. Gawain reflexively snapped to attention.

"Lieutenant Tristan Evergreen, reporting for duty, sir."

Corcra laughed, "At ease, lieutenant, at ease!"

He pulled up a small fold-out chair and propped it in front of Gawain.

"Have a seat. I must say, I'm mighty glad you're here." Corcra grabbed a mug and a pot of what smelled to be cold coffee and began to pour.

"Want any?" He gestured the mug to Gawain.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Suit yourself. It's this new Mistrali stuff. The locals swear it tastes better cold. Not sure if they're right, but it definitely puts a pep in your step!"

The captain's hands shook slightly as he took a sip.

"So, about your assignment. I understand you're here to replace lieutenant Corbin, correct?"

"Replace? I wasn't aware I was relieving command from anyone."

"Oh you're not. Corbin was killed about a week ago by a Beringal. Shame, he was a good lad. But he was no huntsman. Mond was about a half mile away when it happened."

"Mond, he's one of Timber company's huntsmen, correct?"

"Indeed. Him, Aster, and Kiran. They're quite a dynamic trio."

"Wait, there's only three huntsmen for the whole company? Isn't each spear supposed to have at least two?"

A company was made of two to three spears. This means that each spear of fifty or so men only had one huntsman to cover them if any unusually powerful Grimm showed up. Mistral was indeed in a bad way.

"Under ideal circumstances, yes." The Captain answered, taking another sip.

"But these are far from ideal circumstances. These days it seems the company's resources are spread a bit thin, huntsmen included. And, of course, I'm sure you know about what happened to the Third Cohort."

"Unfortunately I do.

"Then you know we've been pulling double duty. Conducting patrols and acting as a rapid-response force in the region. And these damn Grimm don't seem to be letting up either. I thought that since it's been a few months since that whole Beacon Academy affair that things would finally start to quiet down, but then the Third gets slaughtered and now the locals are starting to panic again, which is only inviting more trouble…

Gawain was beginning to understand why Corcra's tent was in such disarray.

"But I'm sure you're tired from travel. I've prepared a mission brief for you to go over so you can get up to speed, and I'll have private Bora outside show you to your tent. Tomorrow I'll introduce you to your Spear. You'll be leading the First Spear, and you'll be working with Sergeant Dearg."

"I'm looking forward to it. Thank you, Captain."

The young private outside showed Gawain to his tent. Having only just been set up, it was relatively tidy compared to the rest of the camp. A simple cot and bedroll, along with a table and dust powered lantern. Gawain was thankful that the tent was tall enough so that he didn't have to hunch over. He set his bag down and began to unpack when he heard someone enter his tent from behind.

Gawain immediately tensed, and wheeled around to face an aged Grunwald soldier. Gawain could tell by the patch on his sleeve that he was a sergeant, and the tag on his chest identified him as Dearg.

"Sergeant Dearg, I presume?"

"Yes sir." The sergeant saluted.

"At ease. What can I do for you, Sergeant?"

"Nothing, sir. Just wanted to get a look at you before all the formal introductions tomorrow. I figured we could have a more honest introduction without all the pomp and circumstance."

The Sergeant was tired, much like the private and captain, but there was an edge to it. It was as if his fatigue had made him more alert, not less. He had short cut, dark red hair, and an angular jaw that gave him an almost hungry look. As he looked over Gawain, his eyes gave off an air of being weary, but suspicious, like he was looking for something.

"Well, I look forward to working with you and your spear, Sergeant," Gawain extended his hand. Sergeant Dearg grasped it, firmly. A little too firmly. His eyes narrowed on Gawain. Gawain decided he didn't like it and crushed his hand.

"Ow!" The sergeant withdrew his hand and gave it a quick shake. "That's a…quite a handshake you got, sir."

"A firm handshake is a sign of respect. An overly firm handshake, however, is the opposite. Is there something on your mind, Sergeant?"

"That depends. Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Speak your mind, Sergeant. I appreciate an honest opinion."

Dearg glanced outside the tent to make sure no one was too close to the entrance. He then leaned a little closer to Gawain and whispered "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Excuse me, Sergeant?"

"Cut the crap. I've been working at this company for ten years. I'd have to be blind to not recognize Gareth Grunwald's baby boy."

Gawain's eyes widened reflexively. He was simultaneously anxious and a little impressed with the Sergeant's deduction. He wasn't expecting his cover to be blown this soon.

"Though I have to say, the fake ears are a bit much. I know you're trying to hide your identity, but that's a bit racist if you ask me."

This time it was Gawain's turn to get the drop on the Sergeant. He perked his wolf ears up towards Dearg.

"Not fake, Sergeant."

The color drained from Dearg's face, if only for a moment, .

"Oh, um, apologies" he stammered. "I never realized...have you been…this whole time? Well, I, uh, you did an excellent job of hiding it…"

In spite of how amusing it was to the see the older combat veteran flustered, Gawain decided to rescue the Sergeant.

"It's okay, Sergeant, very few outside of my family ever knew. My mother died when I was young, and my father did everything in his power to pass me off as human. I was hoping having the ears out in the open would make me harder to recognize, but alas…"

"Ahem, which brings me back to my original question: what are you doing here? I can only think of two reasons. The first: your daddy sending you far away, either to protect you or to get rid of you. Considering where he sent you, I'd say it's the latter, but then why the fake name? Which leaves the second: he didn't send you, that snake Mordred did. And if you're one of Mordred's boys, that means you're here to spy."

Gawain crossed his arms and stared at the Sergeant, perplexed. Now he was definitely impressed.

"Let's say you're right, Sergeant." Gawain said. "Let's say I am Gareth Grunwald's son, and that I'm here on Mordred's orders to gather information." He pulled out the chair from under the table and sat down. "What exactly is the problem with that?"

The Sergeant sighed, "The problem is the two letters in front of your name. LT. You're gonna be leading my spear. My men."

"And?"

"And those men and women deserve an actual lieutenant. An actual leader. Not some rich boy turned spook pretending to be one."

And there it was. The real reason for the Sergeant's animosity. Gawain had spent most of his life being told what he could or couldn't be. He can't be an heir, he can't be a huntsman, and now, he can't be a lieutenant. He had grown accustomed to shutting up and not caring about what others thought. He would let his actions and deeds prove them wrong. And for most of his life, that had worked.

And then Beacon Academy fell. Gawain's home burned. His friends died. Gawain was done being quiet.

Gawain stood, rising to his full height. He dwarfed the Sergeant by nearly a foot.

"Sergeant Dearg" Gawain growled through clenched teeth, his voice low and deep. "I understand your trepidation, but I am not pretending to be anything." Gawain brought his aura to bare, filling the air in the tent with his presence. "My name may be a falsehood, but my rank, my ability, and my strength are most certainly not."

The tent almost seemed to darken, and Gawain's voice carried a sinister chill.

"I could crush your skull in half the time it would take you to draw your weapon or call for help. And if that's what it takes to get my job done, I will do so gladly. I will lead this Spear, with or without you."

Gawain stared the Sergeant down, his eyes filled with the killing intent of a hungry predator.

To his surprise, the Sergeant met his gaze. The Sergeant was no huntsman, but he had some degree of talent with aura. Gawain's aura was substantial to the point of being suffocating, and the Sergeant could sense it. He was visibly sweating, and appeared to have some difficulty breathing, and yet he stood firm, being fully aware of the truth behind Gawain's words.

"I understand, sir." Dearg's voice was unwavering

"But you need to be aware that the men and women of the first Spear are my responsibility. Their lives matter to me, yours does not. And I don't care who your daddy is."

They held each other's gaze for quite some time. Seconds felt like hours. Neither Gawain nor Dearg so much as blinked.

After what seemed like an eternity, Gawain relented. For the second time, he had been impressed. He relaxed his aura, and the Sergeant let out a sigh of relief.

"Not bad, Sergeant, not bad at all." Gawain softened his expression.

"You seem like my kind of soldier. Brave, caring, and smart. I wasn't expecting anyone to deduce my identity on the first day. But I think I can stand someone like you being in on the secret. So here's what we're going to do: I am going to lead this Spear to the best of my ability, and you're going to help me do that. You'll keep my identity a secret, for now, and I will make my duties as lieutenant my top priority. You'll have nothing to worry about from me."

Gawain extended his hand again. Dearg hesitated.

"I'm not going to crush you, Sergeant. Not this time at least. I could really use a man like you on my side."

Sergeant Dearg took his hand and shook. A firm, yet not overly firm, handshake.

"I'm glad we, uh, came to an understanding, Lieutenant _Evergreen_."

"Likewise, Sergeant. I'll see you and your Spear tomorrow.

Dearg exited the tent, and this time Gawain let out the sigh of relief. He wasn't even in Mistral for a day and he had been made. If Mordred knew, he'd probably be laughing. At the very least, Dearg didn't seem like the kind of man to use the information maliciously. His priority was the men and women of his spear, not blackmailing Gawain. In any case, Gawain never had the intention of phoning in his job as the first spear's lieutenant. As of right now, he was a soldier first, spy second.

Gawain looked outside of his tent, the sun had just passed beneath the treeline and night was encroaching from the East. Gawain yawned, the long journey had indeed tired him. He went over the mission brief a few times until his eyelids felt heavy. Then he set up his bed, brushed his teeth, and climbed into the cot just as the last ray of sunlight disappeared over the horizon. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. Going to sleep had always been the easy part. It was everything afterwards that was difficult.


	2. Familiar Danger

That night, Gawain returned to Beacon Academy. First came the smell of smoke. Then the sound of gunfire. Then the roaring. Then the screaming.

Gawain had been in his dorm when the attack started. He was watching the tournament on his scroll, and was just as surprised as anyone by the sudden turn of events. One combatant had dismembered the other. Some woman had hijacked the feed and delivered some kind of manifesto. The moment she finished, the campus and presumably the entire City of Vale were under attack.

Gawain had grabbed his weapons and bolted from his room. The dorm hallway morphed into the streets surrounding the campus. There he found not the creatures of Grimm, but armed soldiers in white uniforms. Their backs bore the symbol of the White Fang. They had turned their weapons on unarmed civilians and students.

Fury engulfed Gawain. He lunged forward, and with a single swing of his swords cut the White Fang soldiers down. Gawain looked down to see the bodies of two dead White Fang members, their blood staining the ground and his swords. His stomach lurched.

It had been so _easy_ , he thought, so _sudden_. Those were the first lives he had ever taken in such close combat. For a moment, Gawain thought he would be ill. But the next two came easier. And the next two. And the next three. And the next four. After a while, he lost count, and he no longer felt ill. All that mattered was that his home was being invaded, and the invaders needed to die.

A White Fang soldier fell to his blades, and as he did his mask fell off, revealing the maw of a Beowolf. The hulking Grimm burst from the flesh of the dead soldier and attacked Gawain with tooth and claw. Gawain suddenly found himself beset on all sides by white, red, and black. Clawing, tearing, gnashing, and biting. Gawain swung, slashed, and roared into an unending sea of bloodthirsty darkness. His flesh parted, his bones broke, and he choked on his own blood. Then came a bright flash of light, and for a moment, the pain stopped. Gawain took the opportunity for one last swing, and felt his blades bite into flesh.

His sword had found purchase in the chest of a young deer faunus. The boy was still a teenager, younger than Gawain. His White Fang uniform was clearly home-made, and his only means of defense had been an old pistol that had rusted beyond the point of usefulness. He was a kid, a stupid kid who had gotten in over his head.

Gawain looked around and saw he was no longer at Beacon, but in Mistral. It was a small village just outside of Windpath. Around him were the bodies of more White Fang, White Fang that he had cut down. Most were older than the unfortunate boy, but some were not. Gawain dropped his swords to the ground, and screamed.

Gawain quickly clasped a hand over his mouth as he awoke. He didn't want to alarm the rest of the camp. His breathing was heavy, his hands were shaking, he was sweating profusely, and it felt like his heart was about to burst from his chest. He immediately got out of his cot and began doing push-ups. One hundred in quick succession, whispering each number to himself and he counted. He had discovered it was the best method for getting his heartrate down.

After he finished the push-ups, he recited every type of Dust he could think of by name. After rattling off several dozen, he had managed to calm himself down. He poured himself a glass of water, not to drink but to splash on his face. It helped abate his sweating. He used a towel to dry himself and poured another glass of water, this time to actually drink.

It had been a week since Gawain had last had this nightmare. He had hoped that the long flight would have left him too tired to feel horrified. He was wrong. The only other means Gawain knew for keeping these dreams at bay was being on a mission. Hopefully this would be the last night terror he would have for a while. Otherwise he would find himself looking a lot like Corcra in the near future.

Since Gawain knew he wouldn't be going back to sleep tonight, he decided to occupy himself by going over the mission brief again. Tomorrow they would be patrolling the forests around Ikebana. His spear was to be broken up into twelve fireteams of four. The fireteams would form an arrowhead formation, spreading so that each fireteam was within a half-mile of the others. Mond, their huntsman, would be in the tip of the arrow, while Gawain, the commanding officer, would be at the center. The entire formation would move as a collective unit on a pre-determined path. Whenever Grimm were encountered, the first fireteam to spot them would radio in on their scroll and engage. If the Grimm was too much for a single fireteam to handle, they would fire a flare. Red for additional fireteam support, purple for huntsman support. After the Grimm had been dealt with, green would be fired to give the all-clear.

Normally, the Spear's two huntsmen would be at the front and the center of the formation to maximize their effectiveness. But since their Spear only had one "real" huntsman, Mond, he was placed at the front, the area most likely to encounter Grimm. Fortunately, Gawain would be able to pick up the slack of their second huntsman, even though he had never finished his education, nor received his license. He was still at the top of his class at Beacon, and was on his third year when the school fell. That had to count for something.

Generally, commanding officers were supposed to hold the center and avoid fighting so they could better give direction and orders. But commanding from behind the lines was never Gawain's style. So he decided that he would switch places with Mond the next day. Mond being at the center would allow him to respond to flares better, and Gawain being at the front would allow him to better investigate the suspicious Grimm activity. Additionally, it may help demonstrate to the Spear that he was not a coward. Or that he was insane. In the grand scheme of things, either would do.

He also decided to go over the personnel files of the huntsmen in the Company. Mond Malvora was a Haven Academy graduate. He joined the company when he was 25, after splitting from his team. He's been with Grunwald Security for two years, but has never risen above second lieutenant. Conveniently, this placed him below Gawain in the chain of command. He appears to have gotten into disputes with other Grunwald soldiers that ended in violence, which got him assigned to Timber Company. His weapon is Langerzhan, a spear whose head is a chainsaw. His semblance allows him to increase his strength the longer he bathes in moonlight, making him more suited for night missions. The fact that he was assigned to a unit that primarily patrols during the day is either evidence of Grunwald Security's lack of resources or the higher-ups intense desire to get rid of him. Or both.

The second huntsman was Aster Cromwell. This one was from Vacuo and a Shade alumnus. He's only been with the company for half a year after working as an independent huntsman for nearly a decade. He apparently chose this assignment because he had never been to Mistral before. His weapon of choice was an oversized pickax attached to an overly-long chain called Kingfisher. His semblance allowed him to summon an array of seven bright lights that he could control, allowing him to distract, blind, bait, or in some cases even burn enemies.

The third huntress was Kiran Apollia. Like Aster, she hailed from Vacuo, though she was recruited fresh out of Shade the previous year. Her weapon was a collapsing boomerang called Ravigaana. Her semblance allowed her to establish sympathetic links between objects of similar "types". The file was a sparse on details, but the primary example given was taking a lock of someone's hair and being able to track and locate that person using said hair. The file mentioned her semblance having other more nuanced uses, but it seemed that whoever wrote it either didn't care or couldn't get any further info out of Kiran.

Those were the three huntsmen of Timber company. Based on their past performances, they seemed adequate in terms of skill. They all had experience dealing with Grimm and had successfully defended their respective spears for the past few months with only minimal casualties. Then again, Gawain had to wonder how adequate the huntsmen of the Third Cohort were.

Gawain spent the rest of the night going over the mission brief and the patrol paths his spear was going to undertake in the morning. He was still awake when the sun crested over the trees and the wake-up call roused the camp.

Captain Corcra formally introduced Gawain to his spear. 48 men and women, one huntsman, and himself, bringing the total number to 50 souls. Most of them didn't look very impressed with Gawain, though a few of the younger soldiers were quick to point out his size and his set of wolf ears. Corcra kept the introductions short, as they needed to set out for their patrol shortly. With that out of the way, the Spear gathered their gear and prepared to head out into the Mistrali wilderness.

Gawain holstered his weapons, the twin rifle blades Bissingehund, in specialized holsters behind his back. They were compact enough in their rifle forms to not be a hindrance when holstered, though the shorter barrels did reduce their long range accuracy. This was fine with Gawain, who considered himself more of a swordsman than a marksman. His weapons did catch the eyes of some of his spear. At Grunwald Security, the only people allowed to have customized equipment were huntsmen or soldiers who had proven sufficient enough in combat to warrant having it. Gawain hoped it would help build a foundation of respect with his new subordinates.

Sergeant Dearg approached Gawain as he finished readying himself. Like the rest of the spear, he had his standard-issue rifle, but unlike them he also sported a forearm-mounted collapsing blade on his right arm.

"That weapon isn't standard-issue." Gawain said, gesturing to the collapsed blade. "You must've impressed somebody higher up."

"Indeed I did." The Sergeant replied, holding his right arm up. "Maybe one day I'll tell you about it."

"Are we ready to move?"

"Yes we are, lieutenant." Dearg turned to the spear and yelled "ALRIGHT YOU BASTARDS! TIME FOR A WALK! GET YOUR BUTTS TO YOUR POSITIONS BEFORE I PUT A BOOTPRINT ON 'EM!"

The previously sluggish spear immediately snapped up and hustled to their designated fireteam positions.

Dearg turned back to Gawain and said "Alright, lieutenant. You'll be with Fireteam Saber in the center, that's-"

"Actually, Sergeant" Gawain interrupted "I'll be switching positions with Second Lieutenant Mond."

The Sergeant was taken aback. "Um, sir, you _do_ realize that Mond is positioned at the _front_ of the patrol formation, right?"

"I'm aware sergeant. But considering he is our only huntsman I believe it would be better for him to be at the center where he can more easily deploy to provide assistance to trouble spots. Besides, I always believed my style more of a 'lead from the front' variety."

Dearg leaned in a little closer and whispered under his breath "Listen, sir, I understand that you're trying to make good on what you promised yesterday, but isn't this a _little_ much? I understand you're no pushover, but the Grimm have been particularly vicious lately. Maybe it would be better if we did this one by the numbers?"

"Doing things by the numbers didn't exactly help your last lieutenant, did it?" Gawain shot back.

Dearg averted his eyes, his expression pained. Gawain's response was perhaps a bit harsher than he intended. The man had only been dead a week, the sergeant and presumably the entire spear was still feeling that loss.

"Sorry, sergeant." Gawain said. "I heard about what happened to Lieutenant Corbin. I didn't mean any offense."

"Corbin was a good kid. He didn't deserve to go out the way he did, but he did. Can't change that now. What I can do is make sure my new Lieutenant doesn't get himself killed by making a boneheaded decision."

"What happened to my life not mattering?"

"Oh it still doesn't. But I got a reputation to consider. Can't have two LTs croaking within two weeks of each other. People would ask questions."

Gawain cracked a smile. "I suppose that makes sense. As does my decision. I'll be taking up a position at the front, sergeant, and that's final."

"Your funeral. Fireteam Cutlass has the front, I'll let Mond know about the switch."

The Sergeant saluted and found Mond with his fireteam. Mond was a lean, handsome man in his late twenties. His dark skin was in striking contrast to his white hair, which Gawain suspected was dyed, as it didn't match his darker close-cut beard. He had a scar on his left temple but his face was otherwise unscathed and his eyes were an icy blue. He was less than enthused to hear about the switch. After a small amount of protest, he took up his position with Fireteam Saber.

Gawain, meanwhile, and settled in with his fireteam. Fireteam Cutlass was made of two men and two women. Specialist Paars Pavalon wielded a heavy shotgun and served as the team's demoman. He was a short, stout, middle-aged man with a mix of purple and gray hair. Corporal Dieter Braun and Private Magnolia Meadows were the team's riflemen and were armed with normal rifles. Braun was a thin but athletic youth wearing glasses, while Meadows had red hair with a shock of pink running through the middle. Meadows was the smallest member of the team, barely standing over five feet, but she seemed the most awake and alert of the four. Private Rhoda Blanche was the team's machine gunner, hefting a large-caliber automatic. A tall woman with a strong build, Blanche was only a few inches shorter than Gawain himself, who topped out at six feet ten inches.

The four soldiers didn't seem to acknowledge Gawain when he first approached them, instead opting to give their weapons another check. It wasn't until Gawain gave the order to move out that they fell in line behind him. The spear sorted itself into the arrowhead formation and spread out, commencing the patrol.

Fireteam Cutlass walked in silence for an hour before Corporal Braun spoke up.

"So, Lieutenant Evergreen, how long you been in this outfit?"

"Dammit, Braun." Blanche interjected "We had a good thing going."

"You mean the whole 'not talking'?" Braun replied.

"Exactly."

"I mean, the guy's leading our spear now. Might as well learn a bit more about him. What do you say, LT?"

Gawain spent a moment going over the fake profile that had been constructed for his identity in his head before saying "Of course, I don't see any harm in it."

"I was born in Mantle, both my parents were dust miners." Gawain began. "At some point, I decided the best way for me to get anywhere would be to join the military. I figured they wouldn't care about my ears, so I enrolled in the Altas Military Academy. Wasn't as fancy as the Huntsman academy, but they taught me a lot. Then there was an accident at the Dust mine my parents worked at. They died, I couldn't afford school anymore, so I dropped out. I was about to forget about the whole officer thing and just enlist when Grunwald Security picked me up. They put me through their officer training and shipped me here as soon as I finished. So, to answer your question, Braun, I've been with this outfit for about six months."

"No kidding?" Braun said "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one." Gawain said.

"Bull-crap." Blanche said. "No way they'd let someone that young join."

"They let teenagers join those huntsmen academies." Braun shot back. "I don't see what the problem is."

"You don't see the problem with us being led by a fresh-out-of-training butter-bars that's half Pavalon's age?"

"Not that old, Blanche." Pavalon said.

"Besides," Braun resumed "Lieutenant Corbin wasn't that much older, and he was a pretty good CO, until…" Braun trailed off, and the fireteam walked in silence for a bit.

"You all seem to hold Corbin in high esteem." Gawain broke the silence. "I hope I can earn your respect the way he did."

"Don't." Meadows said, the first time she had spoken since the patrol started. "Unless you want to end up dead too."

Just then, their scroll comms lit up.

"This is Katana, pack of beowolves spotted at Kilo-Six. Engaging." The comm went out followed by the distant sound of gunfire.

"Looks like Katana got first blood today." Braun said.

"Does it normally take this long for the Grimm to show up?" Gawain asked.

"Usually they show up faster," Pavalon said "but I think these regular sweeps are actually putting a dent into them."

The comms lit up again. "This is Scimitar. We got a couple of big Ursi over at July-One. Engaging." Another burst of gunfire followed.

"You just had to open you big mouth, huh Braun?" Blanche said.

Gawain pulled out his scroll and looked at the map of the region. The forests they were patrolling were divided into a twelve-by-twelve grid with letters on the side and numbers along the top. Gawain and his team were currently at Gulf-three. Once they had reached the zone designated Alpha-three, the formation would have covered the left half of the map. They would then turn the formation around sweep through the other half of the map on their way back, finishing at Lion-Nine.

"This is Falchion. We got beowolves at Lion-One. Engaging." Gunfire.

"How many Grimm do we tend to clear in a day?" Gawain asked.

"There's usually a fifty-fifty chance of any of us running into any." Braun answered. "They're mostly small-fry but for everything else there's Mond."

"Was Corbin the only casualty of this spear?"

"Eh, well, things got dicey after the Third got wiped out. We lost fireteam Dao to an ambush. We never were able to determine what kind of Grimm got them, but there had to be a lot. And it was fast too. They never even got a flare off."

"That's-" Gawain stopped himself. He raised his hand in a stop signal. He smelled Grimm. As a wolf faunus, his nose was much more sensitive than the humans he had in tow. He silently signaled his team to fan out, and drew one of his weapons. He couldn't see the Grimm in the thick of the forest, but they were close. Fireteam Cutlass formed a semi-circle with weapons raised. Gawain heard a twig snap.

"Everyone hold position" Gawain said. "I'll flush them out. Braun, call it in."

"This is Cutlass, we got unknown Grimm at Gulf-Three." Braun whispered into his scroll. "We're gonna flush em out and engage."

Gawain took off into forest in a dead sprint.

"What the hell, LT!?" Blanche called out, struggling to keep her voice below a yell.

"Whelp, he's gonna die." Pavalon said.

"So are we if you don't shut your mouths." Meadows chimed in.

The entire team was tense. Their fingers rested on their triggers. There was movement in and around the trees. Leaves rustled, branches shook, and twigs snapped.

"Hold your fire until we get a good visual." Pavalon said. "Don't want to hit the LT by accident."

"Speak for yourself." Said Blanche. "Idiot ran off like that. He's gonna get us all-"

"Contact left!" Meadow yelled, squeezing off a controlled burst from her rifle. A Beowulf erupted from the brush, roaring in pain. Pavalon turned and blasted it twice with his shotgun, and the beast dissolved into nothingness.

"Two more on the right!" Said Braun as he brought his rifle to bare. He and Blanche opened fire on the pair of beowolves as they stepped out from behind a large tree. They both fell just as quickly as the first.

"Control your bursts, overlap your fields of fire!" Pavalon reminded them. "We got more incoming!"

This time it was an ursa. A big one too. The bear-shaped monstrosity was covered head to toe in bony spikes, and its skull-like face twisted into an expression that seemed to reflect both surprise and rage.

"Light the bastard up!" Pavalon yelled.

The entire team opened up on the Ursa. It did not go down as easily as the beowolves. The dust rounds were hurting it, but the damage wasn't enough to stop it from taking a swipe at Meadows. She managed to dodge its oversized paw, but now the Ursa was in their midst. Pavalon unloaded into its back, but the bony spikes and plates provided too much protection for his shells to do much. He did manage to get its attention, though. The Ursa turned and lunged at him. Pavalon ducked out of the way and the monster's head crashed into the tree that was right behind him. Pavalon took the opportunity to pull the pin on a grenade and drop it at the Ursa's feet, yelling "Grenade!" as he did so. Pavalon dove out from behind the Ursa to the safety of a nearby fallen tree trunk.

"Cover!" Blanche shouted, and the entire team hit the floor.

The grenade went off with a loud crack, taking out the Ursa's left leg. The beast roared its fury into the forest.

"Keep it pinned!" Pavalon shouted, readying another grenade. Fireteam Cutlass peppered the crippled beast until Pavalon chucked his second grenade, yelling "Fire in the hole!" The team took cover again.

There was another loud crack, and the Ursa fell silent. Pavalon peaked out from behind cover to see the Ursa dissolving into black vapor. Everything was still.

"Did we get them?" Braun whispered. "Was that it?"

"Beowolves usually travel in bigger packs than that." Pavalon responded. "Stay alert."

"Well there was an Ursa too. Maybe it was an abnormal pack." Braun said. "And where'd the LT go, I thought he was gonna-" A large Beowolf, an Alpha, stepped from behind a tree as Braun spoke. Neither Pavalon, Meadows, nor Blanche saw it before it was already looming over Braun, mouth agape. It lurched down to clamp its jaws around his head.

Another Beowulf burst out from the bush, hitting the Alpha square in its side and knocking it off balance. The shock of the impact sent Braun to the ground, away from the Alpha as its muzzle snapped closed.

Gawain launched himself from the dark of the forest directly at the two Grimm. The lesser beowolf was still on the ground trying to recollect itself. Gawain brought his boot down directly on its head, crushing its skull. The Alpha had managed to regain its footing and turned to snarl at Gawain. Gawain fired one of his rifles twice at it, but the rounds did little more than make it angrier. Gawain then transformed his weapon into its saber form. The blade was nearly four feet long, with the hilt adding another foot. To most, it would've easily been a two-handed weapon, but for Gawain it was simply a longsword. The Alpha brandished its claws at him, ready for a fight.

To call what ensued a "fight" would be a gross exaggeration. The Alpha lunged, claws forward, at Gawain. Gawain spun to the side and with a single stroke hewed the Alpha's right leg off at the knee. The Alpha stumbled to the ground and thrashed about frantically. Gawain brought the tip of his sword down and impaled the beast through its back, pinning it face down into the forest floor. The Alpha was still alive, so Gawain put his knee behind its head, grabbed its upper jaw with one hand and lower jaw with the other, and wrenched the top of its head clean off. The Alpha convulsed, collapsed, and evaporated. The forest was silent once more.

"That was the last" Gawain sighed. "I don't smell anymore."

"What the _hell_ was that?" Blanche snapped.

"That was an engagement with the enemy." Gawain shot back. "I would've been back sooner, but I had to deal with a dozen or so myself." Gawain retrieved his sword, collapsed it back into its rifle form, and holstered it behind his back.

"What a load of bull!" Blanche said. "For all we know you were hiding and hanging us out to dry!"

"Uh, Blanche," Braun interrupted "did you forget the part where he tore that beowolf's head off with his bare hands?"

"Braun's got a point." Pavalon added. "That was some huntsman-level stuff." He turned to Gawain. "You _sure_ you went to the military academy?"

"I may have _some_ talent when it comes to combat." Gawain replied. "There was a reason G-Sec wanted me in the field as soon as possible."

"Yeah, let's all pat the LT on the back." Blanche said. "And forget him just taking off right as the fight started."

"Actually, the fight didn't start until I engaged the beowolf pack." Gawain said. "I took out six before they realized the fight wasn't going their way and began to clear out towards you. By the sound of it, you managed to get all of the stragglers. The Alpha broke off about halfway through the battle, so I finished off what had stayed to fight me and gave chase. Fortunately, I managed to get back before it turned Braun into a snack."

"Thanks for that." Braun said. "By the way."

"What about the Ursa?" Meadows added.

Gawain's face suddenly flushed. "Um…what Ursa?"

"Oh, you know, the one that almost turned Meadows into a bag of broken bones." Blanche answered. "Guess you missed one."

Gawain ignored Blanche and turned to Meadows. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She said. She recounted the battle to Gawain.

"I see, well done." Gawain said. "I apologize. Had I known an Ursa was in the area I would've stayed closer to the team."

"We're copacetic, LT." Pavalon said. "We can handle ourselves. That's why we're here. Speaking of which, we should get back on to the patrol."

"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!" Everyone's scrolls lit up. "This is fireteam Saber at Lion-Three! Unknown Grimm type caught us in the back, Mond is-" The signal was cut off the sound of gunfire.

Fireteam Cutlass turned around to see a purple flare arc up into the sky about a mile behind them.

"What the hell?!" Blanche shouted.

"How did they get behind us?" Pavalon said.

Gawain opened the map on his scroll again. He looked at the fireteams' positions on the map, and marked where the earlier encounters were. Fireteam Katana a Kilo-Six. Fireteam Scimitar at July-One. Fireteam Falchion at Lion-One. And then fireteam Cutlass at Gulf-Three. The last three of those fireteams formed the tips of the arrowhead formation. Gawain's eyes went wide.

"They bracketed us!" Gawain shouted and switched his scroll back to short-range radio. "This is lieutenant Evergreen! All Fireteams converge on Saber, now!" Gawain took off running, with Cutlass following behind.

"Sir! What do you mean 'bracketed'?!" Braun yelled forward.

"It's a ranging technique used by artillery." Gawain shouted back. "By firing short and long of a target you ensure that everything in between that range will be a hit. Those weren't random encounters we just had. The Grimm were figuring out our formation. Once they determined how wide it was, they circled around and attacked our center from behind."

"There's no way they're that smart, right?" Braun asked.

"Grimm get smarter with age, it's why that Alpha broke off its attack when it knew it couldn't fight me."

"But why go for the center? That's where Mond is!"

"That's where he is _today_!" Gawain said. "But why do we normally keep the CO near the center?"

"To keep the leadership alive." Meadows added. "You don't think the Grimm figured that out too, do you?"

"I think the Grimm are going after what they believe to be a high value target. Destabilize the center and cause chaos in the formation. Hopefully Mond will be a bite too big for them to chew."

A red flare shot up into the sky, followed by another.

"This is fireteam Claymore! The enemy is here! What is that thing!?"

Gawain brought his scroll up to his ear. "Claymore, describe that Grimm! What are we dealing with?"

"I've never seen anything like it, it-" the signal cut off.

Gawain cursed under his breath. "Double-time, Cutlass! Move!"

Fireteam Cutlass bolted through the forest as fast as their legs would carry them. As they moved more red flares shot up in front of them, followed by bursts of gunfire. Gawain shouted into his scroll "Someone talk to me! How many Grimm?! How big!? Does anyone have eyes on Saber!?"

"This is Fireteam Otachi," Gawain recognized Sergeant Dearg's voice "We're coming up on the flares! We don't see anything yet!"

"Watch yourselves, Otachi!" Gawain ordered. "We still don't know what kind of Grimm this is or how many there are. Cutlass is almost there, just hang tight! Katana, Falchion, Rapier, Gladius, Spatha and Jian form a perimeter around Saber's last position and hold! Whatever this is, do not let it get away! Talwar and Khanda, link up with Otachi and Cutlass! We're going in after Saber and Claymore!"

Cutlass managed to find Otachi just about a hundred yards away from where the first flare went up. Talwar and Khanda joined shortly afterward. The seventeen Grunwald soldiers moved as one at a cautious pace through the forest, with Gawain at the lead. Gawain could smell blood.


	3. Two Warriors

Gawain brought up his scroll one more time "Saber, Claymore, do you copy?" Nothing but static answered. "Again, Fireteam Saber, Fireteam Claymore, does anyone read?" There was no response.

Gawain readied one of his rifles and turned back to the fireteams. "We're going in, be prepared."

The four fireteams moved closer to where the flares originated. There was a small creek running adjacent to a clearing in the trees. That was where the first body was found.

Gawain approached it slowly, the body was face down in the water. Gawain reached out and turned over to see the mangled remains of a man. His tag named him Kaito Hopper, private first class. A single slash had opened him up from his shoulder to his hip.

"Who is it?" Dearg asked, weapon and eyes trained on the trees.

"Private Kaito Hopper."

"He's with Saber." Dearg said. "Where's the rest of them?"

"I got one over here" Pavalon said, his foot near a pair of legs that were caught under a fallen tree. "Lily Lincoln." Pavalon shook his head. "She's gone."

"Was she with Saber too?" Gawain asked. Dearg nodded. Gawain pulled Hopper's tags off of him and stowed them in his pocket.

"Circle up" Gawain said. "The rest of the spear has this place surrounded. Whatever did this is nearby."

"Where are the rest?" Blanche asked, "If they were all wiped out there should be eight bodies."

"Nine, don't forget about Mond." Dearg added.

"Right, where the hell is that huntsman?! He should've dealt with this!"

"Hey guys," Braun said "there's a blood trail over here."

Gawain went over to inspect it. There was indeed a blood trail. It looked like someone had been dragged through the forest floor. Gawain could make out a boot print in the dirt next to the trail.

"Someone was wounded and carried off this way." He signaled to the fireteams. "Let's move, someone may still be alive."

They walked about fifty yards before they found another corpse. Qiell Lawrence from fireteam Claymore. He had been impaled through the abdomen and appeared to have quickly bled out.

"It looks like Claymore tried to get here and provide assistance," said the Sergeant "but the best they could do is run."

"What kind of Grimm makes these wounds, Sergeant?" Gawain asked.

"No idea. But something tells me we'll know it when we see it."

They moved further into the forest and found two more bodies. Both were the last remaining members of Fireteam Saber. The floor of the forest had become more chaotic, making any kind of tracks or trails harder to notice.

A twig snapped and all seventeen soldiers immediately froze. Then came a quiet moan, almost a whimper. Gawain and the sergeant immediately went to it.

Under a pile of leaves was a wounded Grunwald soldier. She was barely conscious but breathing. Gawain could smell blood on her but couldn't see an obvious wound.

"It's Carter." Said the Sergeant, who had reached into his pack to pull out bandages and other first aid. "Dahlia Carter. She's with Claymore. Medic!" One of the soldiers with Otachi ran up and began helping the Sergeant with Carter.

"Another one over here, he's alive!" Braun said, clearing some more leaves off of another soldier.

"Here too! He's hurt pretty bad but he's alive!" Said Blanche.

Gawain did the math in his head, that made eight. One was still unaccounted for.

"Where's Mond?" Gawain asked.

Everyone looked around, but couldn't find any trace of a fourth body. All of the blood in the air was making scents hard for Gawain to parse out. Even more unsettling, Gawain couldn't smell any Grimm either. Grimm had a fairly distinct smell, like seared steak mixed with burning metal. In a forest setting like this, it was usually pretty easy to spot. But now all Gawain could smell was blood, sweat, and gunpowder.

"We need eyes higher up" said Dearg, gesturing to one of his team members. "Wallace, climb that tree and see if you can spot anything."

The private named Wallace quickly scampered up a thick-trunked tree, navigating the branches with practiced ease. Gawain briefly saw a flash of a brown-furred tail that had been wrapped around his waist like a belt. A monkey faunus, Gawain figured. It probably made the man a reliable scout.

Gawain tried to put together what had happened based on what he knew. Fireteam Saber had been engaged by some kind of new Grimm. Two of them were killed, and a third was wounded. That was when Claymore arrived and tried to assist, but one of them was impaled and killed while the rest escaped. Two more were killed during that retreat, and the rest ended up here. But they were all wounded and unable to move, yet still managed to cover themselves with leaves and foliage to hide themselves. Did Mond do that? But how did he carry them all this far? Maybe they had been wounded here and Mond elected to hide them rather than try to move them. But whatever wounded them wouldn't have just left them alive. Perhaps Mond fought or lured it off or finally killed it? But then where was he? Something wasn't adding up.

Gawain's thoughts were interrupted by something wet landing on his head. The forecast didn't call for rain. Gawain wiped it off and his heart nearly stopped. Red. It was blood. Gawain looked up. It had come from the tree that Wallace was climbing. Gawain noticed that there was a rather odd arrangement of branches bunched up near the center, almost as if they were part of a different tree altogether. Gawain's eyes went wide.

"Out of the tree! Wallace! NOW!" Gawain yelled.

Wallace looked down at Gawain confused, and then felt one of the branches he had been using as a handhold move on its own. He looked in front of him to see three knotholes being to glow orange and yellow.

"IT'S CAMOUFLAGED!" were Wallace's last words. A bone white sickle lashed out from the leaves and cut him in half at the waist. The top half of the tree shifted and moved as the brown bark morphed into an inky black hide. Branches twisted in grotesque ways to take the form of limbs, and a vicious lizard-like head emerged to bellow a blood curdling roar.

"Open fire!" Gawain roared back, and the fireteams unloaded their weapons.

The gunfire drove the beast from its perch on the tree. It landed on the forest floor with enough force to make a few of the soldiers stumble. Gawain finally got a good look at it. It had to be at least ten feet tall. It had two long arms that ended in horrifically sharp sickle blades, with another pair of smaller arms closer to its exposed ribcage, with grasping hands and claws. Its legs were digitigrade, with each foot having three toes ending in long white talons. On its back was an arrangement of bony plates, but from beneath those plates were three long black whip-like tendrils that moved erratically back and forth, as if possessing minds of their own. The beast also sported a long muscular black tail, longer than the rest of its body. It's face was a draconic skull with three eyes on either side and a mouth far too wide and filled with rows of triangular teeth. From its bottom jaw protruded two hooked bony blades on either side of its chin.

The Grunwald soldiers surrounded the creature in a semi-circle and continued to light it up with their guns. The bullets forced the creature to cover itself with its long bladed arms, but otherwise they weren't doing much damage to it. Yet it didn't try to retreat or attack. Gawain didn't figure it out until he heard a lull in the gunfire.

"Alternate your fire!" Gawain barked "Don't let it catch you reloading!" But it was too late. Several soldiers had already dropped spent magazines to reload. That was all the opening the Grimm needed. The creature began to spin rapidly and its tendrils and tail lashed out. Three soldiers were hit and sent sailing through the air. The Grimm lunged forward and flicked one of its sickles at Braun who just barely managed to duck under without being hit. The man behind him wasn't so lucky, as the beast opened its jaws and clamped down hard on his shoulder. It wrenched him into the air and flung him into a nearby tree with so much force Gawain could hear his bones crack.

Gawain drew his other weapon and converted them both into their saber forms. He moved quickly into the beast's striking range and tried to score a hit on one of its hind legs, only for the creature to parry him with one of its sickles. Gawain slashed again and again, but every one of his strikes was blocked. A black tendril caught one of his arms and yanked him aside. The Grimm spun with Gawain in tow, and after it picked up enough speed it released him sending him flying into the branches of a tree. His aura absorbed the impact, but the beast had launched him quite a distance. He jumped from the branches down to the ground and sprinted back to the battle. He could see his soldiers in a mad scramble to survive.

Pavalon pulled the pin on a grenade and chucked it, only for the Grimm to bat it into the air where it exploded harmlessly. Some of the other soldiers tried to get behind the trees for cover. One poor soul was too slow and got speared through the back by one of the Grimm's sickles. It tossed his limp body aside and lunged forward, mouth agape, at Sergeant Dearg. Dearg whipped out his arm blade and slashed the creature across the face, severing one of the bony spikes on its bottom jaw. The beast shrieked and took a swing at him with one of its blades that missed by a hair. However, the swiping tendril that followed hit its mark, crashing into Dearg's side and sending him straight to the ground. It raised one of its scythe-like arms for the deathblow, but pulled it back at the last second to catch a blindside attack from Gawain.

Gawain pushed off from the Grimm and squared off against it. "Eyes on me, monster!" He roared. The Grimm gave Gawain an almost quizzical stare, as if sizing up its would-be challenger. Gawain's instincts told him there was something different about this creature, something _off_. The way it moved, the way it attacked, it didn't behave like any Grimm he had ever fought before. The monster took a step towards Gawain, raising its sickle arms into a stance reminiscent of a boxer, the three tendrils on its back fanned out, undulating with a slow and steady rhythm. And that was when it hit Gawain. It was a _fighting stance_. This creature wasn't just preparing to kill, but to _fight_.

When most Grimm attack, they lash out with whatever tools they have available to them. Their fangs, their claws, their bulk, etc. They're fueled by instinct, and their instincts seldom extend beyond "attack". It made them a formidable enemy, as every Grimm was spawned into this world with the aptitude to kill humans using only their native abilities. Humans, on the other hand, lack these natural weapons and instincts. So to combat such threats, they developed a system of techniques and strategies through trial and error over many generations to increase their ability to survive. This system became known as "martial arts", and it is a cornerstone of every human culture on the planet. Human martial arts were not only effective against Grimm, but also each other. As such, new techniques were constantly being developed to counter the techniques of others. This allowed the martial arts systems of the world to evolve and flourish at an astounding pace, as the weaker systems were weeded out and the stronger ones survived. The masters of these systems became known as "warriors", the gods of the battlefield. It was the warriors who were the first line of defense when it came to safeguarding humanity from the Grimm throughout history. It was a decisive advantage, as while the Grimm were an innumerable horde with instinct and natural weapons, they had no warriors.

Until now.

Gawain realized that what he was looking at now was no mere predator. This was not a beast that was hunting its prey. This was a machine, built for war. It wasn't here just to kill the enemy, but to achieve victory over them as well. It was a warrior.

For the first time since this nightmare had started, Gawain felt some semblance of relief. This creature had been a terror when it was an unknown quantity, but now Gawain had finally felt like he knew what he was up against. Afterall, he had spent the last three years learning how to fight and kill other warriors.

Gawain adopted a fighting stance of his own. He leaned forward slightly, with both of his blades fully extended outward toward the Grimm.

"Everyone," Gawain said in a calm voice "Get the wounded back to the perimeter. I'll hold this here."

"No way!" Dearg shouted through a cough. "We're not leaving you with this thing!"

"Yes you will, Sergeant." Gawain's eyes never wandered from the Grimm, who was hunkered down, preparing a lunge. "Bullets and grenades can barely scratch it. I have to deal with it my way."

"What way?" the Sergeant asked, pushing himself slowly off the ground as to not draw the Grimm's attention.

Gawain smiled. "The Huntsman way."

Gawain and the Grimm leapt towards each other, and the duel had begun.

Steel against bone. Flesh against flesh. Gawain and the Grimm slashed and stabbed at one another at blinding speed, neither one's blows managing a solid hit. The beast was larger, stronger, and had more weapons, but Gawain was faster and had years of training and experience combating both Grimm and fellow huntsmen. He dodged and weaved between its limbs and raked the edge of his weapons against the Grimm's hide. But the monster was tough enough to shrug off bullets, it would not go down easily.

Dearg and his fireteam were off to the side. They had managed to recover anyone who was still breathing and drag them away from the battle. But between the wounded who could no longer walk and the remaining soldiers who had to carry them, there were none who could remain to help their lieutenant. Dearg cursed to himself and signaled the fireteams to move out, retreating to the perimeter the rest of the spear had established. He allowed himself one last glance at the fight, if only to just marvel at the spectacle.

He had never seen a someone move the way Gawain was. The intensity of the speed and the ferocity of his strikes was astounding. Every clash between his blades and the sickles of the Grimm sounded like the crack of a rifle shot. Both he and the beast moved together as if they were part of a dance choreographed to unheard music. Dearg had to fight the urge to turn back and help yet again. He had his duty to attend to, and both he and Gawain knew who came first. Dearg faced forward, and silently wished Gawain luck.

For Gawain, fighting the Grimm was less like fighting a huntsman, and more like fighting three huntsmen at once. The sickles, tail, and tendrils were all essentially three different sets of weapons all anchored to the same body. And that's without mentioning the creature's large frame and imposing jaws that occasionally snapped at him when he tried to make an attempt at his neck. Conventional swordsmanship was not going to be enough, and there was no way he could simply overpower it either. Worst of all, while Gawain was growing accustomed to the beast's movements, he noticed that it had also adapted to his. And if this Grimm was the warrior Gawain believed it was, then it may have reached a similar conclusion. This meant that whoever could come up with a new strategy and execute it first was going to emerge the victor.

The Grimm was the first to try a new tactic. It maneuvered to where some of the dead Grunwald soldiers who had been left behind. With its tail and tendrils, it began to fling them at Gawain. Gawain had to dodge out of the way, or risk being hit or possibly blinded by the blood of the deceased soldiers and they careened through the air. Gawain couldn't lose sight of the Grimm, otherwise it might try to camouflage again.

The Grimm snarled after its ploy had ended unsuccessfully, and ducked its head for a charge. Gawain positioned himself near a large tree, hoping he could dodge at the last second and make the creature ram itself into the trunk. The Grimm bolted straight for Gawain, but then altered its course just before it reached him. It gave a cursory swipe with one of its sickles, but otherwise blew past him, completely ignoring him.

It was heading in the direction the fireteams had fled to.

The Grimm must have thought that Gawain was just stalling it, and now it's gunning for the fleeing wounded before they can get a chance to regroup. Gawain realized that _he_ was not the Grimm's enemy. _Mankind_ was its enemy, and as a warrior achieving victory meant destroying the enemy by any means necessary. If it couldn't kill Gawain in a straight up fight, then it would instead try to inflict as much damage as possible and retreat. It's what Gawain would've done.

Gawain gave chase, but the beast's long legs gave it an impressive stride. It would be on top of the wounded in less than a minute. Gawain put everything he had into his sprint, but he was a large, heavy man. Even though he was much faster than one would expect for his size, he could barely keep up with the more streamlined Grimm, who had a head start on him.

Gawain made a gamble. He chucked one of his swords as hard as he could at the beast. The blade flew straight, like a spear, and found its mark in the Grimm's left thigh. The monster shrieked and stumbled, giving Gawain a split second to catch up to it. Gawain gave a running leap and managed to wrap his arms around the end of its tail.

Gawain came down on both feet, planting them hard into the earth. He intended to turn himself in to a six foot ten, three hundred and fifty pound anchor. But the Grimm pressed on, ignoring both him and the sword in its leg. The ground beneath Gawain's feet gave way and the beast dragged him across the floor as if he were skiing. The Grimm gave a few good shakes of its tail, trying to buck Gawain off, but he held firm. Gawain just needed something sturdier to anchor himself to. He found his answer in a thick oak tree the beast was about to pass.

Just as Gawain came upon the tree, he whipped his remaining sword around and thrust it deep into the tree's trunk. He tensed every muscle in his body and held on for dear life as the Grimm's momentum transferred all of its energy through its tail, into Gawain's arms and chest, and finally into the tree with a loud snap. Gawain was lucky the impact didn't dislocate his shoulders, but the Grimm was jerked back by the sudden stop and fell over. It shrieked and clawed and pushed with its legs and arms to right itself, its tendrils lashing out at nearby trees in frustration. It dug its sickles into the ground to try and prop itself up, but Gawain was having none of it.

With all of the strength he could muster, over years of training and honing his body and aura, Gawain held the beast in place. Then he reached further, tapping into the power of his semblance.

Gawain's semblance was an odd thing. At its most basic level, it increased his strength and speed, and heightened his senses at the expense of his aura. But he always knew there had to be more to it, that it was underdeveloped. He just couldn't figure out how to bring out its full potential. There was always something nagging at the back of his mind whenever he used it, that he wasn't reaching far enough. There was something deeper, rooted into his blood and bones, something he had been subconsciously suppressing. But what little strength he could pull from it now would have to be enough.

Gawain began to pull the beast back towards him, inch by inch. The Grimm responded in kind, perhaps believing it could easily win a test of strength. But Gawain didn't intend to engage the Grimm in a tug-of-war. He wanted the Grimm to pull him with all of its strength. Just when Gawain felt his muscles and tendons begin to give, he switched his sword back into its rifle form. The transformation freed it from the trunk of the oak, and the force of the Grimm's pull propelled Gawain forward. The Grimm had also lurched forward, losing its balance and falling again. In mid-flight, Gawain switched his weapon back into its sword form and slashed the monster across the back of its neck as he passed over it. His sword fell in front of the bony plates on its back and behind the thick armor of its skull, parting the vulnerable black flesh in between.

Gawain did a tuck and roll as he landed, but came up on his feet, facing the beast. The Grimm was thrashing about, wounded but not dead. Gawain seized the opportunity and surged forward. The Grimm was still using its sickles to try and prop itself up, so instead it whipped its back tendrils at Gawain to defend itself. Gawain only had one of his swords, so he blocked one, dodged the other two, and pressed forward. The Grimm raised one of its sickles for a downward slash, but Gawain deflected it to the side with his blade. Grasping his sword with both hands, Gawain spun and brought his weapon down upon the arm of the Grimm with all of his strength. The bone white sickle skidded across the forest floor, and the stump it had once been attached to bellowed black vapor.

The Grimm howled in pain and fury. It opened its jaws wide, wider than they had any right to. The beast pushed with its three remaining limbs and dove headfirst at Gawain. Gawain brought the tip of his sword to meet it, and with both arms thrust forward into its gaping maw.

Gawain felt his sword push through its flesh and come out the wound in the Grimm's neck he had made earlier. The Grimm convulsed and gagged, Gawain felt the heat of its breath as it wretched black ooze on him. But Gawain was not finished. He twisted his sword and wrenched it to one side. Then he twisted it again and wrenched to the opposite side. He repeated this once, twice, three times. With each jerking motion, Gawain felt the Grimm resist less and less. On the fourth, the top of the monsters skull went flying, and Gawain pulled his sword free. The Grimm collapsed, and began to dissolve into black smoke.

It wasn't until that moment that Gawain noticed that one of the bone spikes the beast had on its bottom jaw had managed to pierce his side with its final lunge. When the Grimm evaporated, the wound was open, and blood began to flow from it. The gash was small but deep, and needed treatment. Gawain placed one hand over it and applied pressure. He transformed and holstered his weapon, and retrieved the other that been freed from the now deceased Grimm. He pulled a flare gun from a pocket in his coat, chambered a green flare, and fired it into the sky.

As tough as Gawain liked to think he was, the injury hobbled him slightly. He was about to pull out his scroll and radio his location to the others, when armed soldiers peered out from behind the trees. It was Sergeant Dearg, with fireteams Otachi and Cutlass following him.

"I thought you were evacuating the wounded, Sergeant." Gawain grunted.

"Yes, sir, I was." Dearg said. "And I did. I radioed the teams on the perimeter and they met us halfway. Figured we would double-back and give you a hand but…" Dearg trailed off when he noticed Gawain's wound. "You need to have that looked at, sir."

"No, I'm fine." Gawain said, sounding slightly out of breath. "Well, I'm fine enough to make it back to camp. We'll break off today's patrol here. Round everyone up and return to base. We need to see to the wounded." Gawain turned back to look in the direction where they first encountered the Grimm. "And the dead."

"Copy that, Lieutenant. I'll see it done." The Sergeant began to relay orders into his scroll, and Gawain joined his fireteam and began the journey back to their base camp.


	4. Aftermath

The spear's return journey was slow. Being encumbered with wounded and dead, they held a tighter formation for safety. The pain, grief, and fear of so many lost comrades was sure to draw in any Grimm they had missed during their first sweep. Fortunately, the most they had to worry about were a few beowolf packs, which were quickly dispatched.

Captain Corcra was there to greet them when they arrived at the outpost. He made sure the wounded were tended to, and set aside an area for the bodies of the fallen. Gawain was pulled aside into the Captain's tent so he could debrief him on the situation. He told Corcra what had happened while a medic was treating the wound in his side. He fudged some of the details when it came to how the Grimm died.

"By the gods!" Corcra exclaimed. "You must have a guardian angel looking out for you. To have that beast slip and fall at just the right moment! It sounds like an absolute horror! And camouflage? Are you sure?"

Gawain nodded. "It managed to make itself look like a tree. No one noticed until it was too late." Gawain winced as the medic pulled the bandages around his midsection tighter. "And it wasn't just a matter of changing color either. It could mask its scent too. What's more, I think it laid a trap for us using our own wounded as bait."

Corcra suddenly straightened. "A-a trap!? Is that even possible?"

"It's the only explanation I can think of. The Grimm was more than capable of simply killing our troops. So why leave a few wounded and then conceal itself? The answer would be so that it could lure more soldiers into a kill zone."

"A Grimm laying a trap." Corcra began pouring himself a cup of cold coffee. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"There's something else I'd like to add. When I fought it, it didn't feel like I was fighting a Grimm. It felt like I was fighting a huntsman."

"Fought a lot of huntsmen, have you?" Corcra laughed. "My, Atlas' military school has upped its curriculum since I graduated."

"I-I've seen a lot of tournament footage." Gawain corrected himself. "But, the way it moved, the way it approached combat, it all seemed uncannily human. It seemed less like it was fighting on instinct, and more like it was trained. Like someone taught it how to fight."

"I think the blood loss is starting to have an effect. I'll grant you that this Grimm was no doubt a more clever beast than we're used to dealing with, but we can't let battle fatigue cloud our perception of events."

"'Battle fatigue'?"

Corcra placed a hand on Gawain's shoulder. "You're tired. Stressed. You just lost eight men and barely survived an encounter with a Grimm the likes of which no one has ever seen before. It's understandable if you're a bit shook up. Gods know, I am and I wasn't even there!" Corcra offered Gawain a cup of the cold coffee. "What's important now is that you managed to kill that monster. It won't be luring anyone else into ambushes again. It may not feel like it now, but this is a victory."

Gawain pushed the cup away. "Eight men for one Grimm. I fail to see how that's a victory."

"That's the reality of what we face, lieutenant. Every soldier here knew the risks when they signed up to fight for money. Our job is to die so that someone else doesn't have to. That's what they pay us for."

"I thought we were being paid to protect Mistral."

"Lieutenant, I think the best thing for you and your men is to get some rest. Once the second spear finishes its patrol, we'll be on perimeter defense of the town for the rest of the week. It'll give you some time to decompress."

Gawain looked to the medic and asked "Are you done yet?" The medic nodded, and Gawain put his shirt back on.

"You have enough aura to assist the healing." The medic said. "Normally this wound would take a month to fully heal, but you might be back to normal in a week. You should take it easy regardless."

"Thank you." Gawain said. " Is that everything, Captain?"

"Yes, you're dismissed, lieutenant."

Gawain walked out of the Captain's tent, and made his way to first aid tent to check on the wounded of his spear. The three members of fireteam Claymore they had found before the Grimm's ambush were nursing various broken bones and concussions. They would be out of commission for at least a month. Two soldiers from fireteam Talwar and another from fireteam Khanda were suffering from some bruised ribs and a few sprains, but were otherwise fine. They could be back in the field within a week.

After making sure the wounded were okay, Gawain visited the deceased. Eight body bags were arranged on a tarp. A female soldier with a scroll was checking each of their names against the company roster.

"Are we sending them home?" Gawain asked.

"Yes, sir." She answered dispassionately. "We'll make sure they receive a proper burial."

"Did you know any of them?"

"Not that well. I'm with the third spear, so I spend most of my time here in the camp. The second and first spears are the ones who go out on patrols."

"Oh." Gawain couldn't help but feel crestfallen that he didn't know them any better than she did, even if he had only been there for a day. Ah, that's right. This was technically Gawain's first day leading his spear. His first day, and he had already lost eight men.

"Is it okay if I take down their names as well?" he asked.

"I don't have any problem with it." She responded.

Gawain went to each body and recorded their names into his scroll. There was Lily Lincoln, from Mistral. Russet Wallace, from Menagerie. Qiell Lawrence, from Atlas. Kaito Hopper, from Vacuo. Poppy Powers, from Vale. Tison Marquis, from Vale. Momo Matsuda, from Mistral. And Lloyd Tiber, from Vacuo.

They had come from all over the world. Odds are they were all looking for some kind of adventure or an opportunity to prove themselves. Grunwald Security styles itself as a haven for those looking for a second chance. Many of its recruits had dreams of becoming huntsmen but lacked the necessary amount of aura or access to an academy. They had been turned away from their dreams of being heroes. Grunwald Security gave them the chance to be heroes of a different sort. To fight and protect, not as individual warriors but together as soldiers. Gawain looked on the tarp and saw not bodies, but eight dreams unfulfilled. Eight kids who wanted to show the world that they were worth something. Eight stories about coming from the bottom and finding a cause to fight for. They all met their end here, in a forest at the edge of Mistral. And there was nothing Gawain could've done to stop it.

There were few times Gawain felt so helpless. Once, when his mother died. Again, when his cousin had shown him the casualty report from Beacon, informing him that his teammates and friends had died. And now here, standing before the dead, he was once again helpless.

A sudden onset of raised voices and shouts jarred Gawain from his thoughts. He saw soldiers rushing to the edge of the outpost. Among them was Braun.

"Braun! What's going on?" Gawain shouted to him.

"It's Mond! They found him! He's alive!" Braun shouted back.

Gawain wasted no time, joining the other soldiers outside of the outpost. Sure enough, Mond was there. He was leaning against another, and had a slight limp. There was a fresh cut over his right eye, and his clothing was torn in several places, but he was conscious and alert. Gawain immediately took control of the situation.

"Get a medic! And some water!" He ordered. Braun was the one to took off to fetch the medic, while another soldier brought Gawain a canteen of water. Mond managed to take a seat on a storage crate. Gawain knelt down next to him and held up the canteen to Mond, who took a long swig.

"Mond, I need you to tell me everything that happened." Gawain tried to keep his voice level and calm. For now, he needed information. Grief would have to wait.

"We got jumped," Mond said, breathlessly. "Big Grimm. Never seen one like it before. It got Hopper and Lincoln before I could do anything." He took another drink. "Tried to fight it, but it was too much. It popped my aura in a few hits. Tried to lure it away, but then it disappeared. Everything after that was a blur, I think I passed out. When I came to, I made my way back here."

"You tried to lure it away?"

"It seemed interested in me for some reason. I ran. It chased me. I knew that if it caught me I was dead. At some point it stopped chasing me and I couldn't see it anywhere. I thought I lost it."

"It doubled back and attacked your fireteam, as well as fireteam Claymore." Gawain said, solemnly. "Saber was wiped out, and one from Claymore was killed. Then it left some of the wounded alive to use as bait when we sent in reinforcements. It managed to kill three more before it was put down."

"Really? Damn." Mond didn't sound particularly grief-stricken. "Well, that's how the dice rolls sometimes I guess." He took another drink of water.

Gawain stood up. "' _How the dice rolls_ '?" He asked. "Eight men are dead, Lieutenant."

Mond looked confused. "And what do you want me to do about it? Bring them back to life? The Grimm got them. We got the Grimm. That's how this works, in case you forgot, Lieutenant."

"I'm aware of how this works, _Second_ Lieutenant." Gawain spat back. "But we lost eight comrades today. Have the common decency to show them some respect."

"We're _mercs_ , Evergreen. We only thing we respect is the paycheck. That's why we're all out here, right?"

"That's why _you're_ out here, Malvora. Some of us are here because we want to help people. Because we wanted to be a part of something greater than ourselves!"

Mond was the next to stand. He was by no means short, but Gawain still had several inches on him. "Oh, cut the 'brothers-in-arms' crap! That sweet-talk might work for the rank-and-file, but _I'm_ a huntsman. The only reason I signed up was for the benefits and to not have to deal with mission boards. I don't give a damn about the camaraderie or the corporate culture. I kill things, and I get paid to do it. That's it. And I bet half of the folks here agree with me!"

Gawain looked around. One or two of the soldiers present looked indignant, but most simply averted their eyes.

"And what do you care anyway?" Mond continued. "You _just_ got here! I bet you didn't even know their names! So don't come at me all high and mighty like you're the good guy here! Hell, it's more _your_ fault than mine they're dead! You're supposed to be the commanding officer, right _First_ Lieutenant? That means it's _your_ responsibility. You asked to be at the front of the formation because you had to show off how big and brave you are, right? And because of that a big Grimm slipped right by you and into us! And then you led more of our guys into an ambush and got more suckers killed! So how about you get off your high horse before I knock you off?"

Gawain restrained himself. There was a stinging truth in some of Mond's words. He was right that Gawain wanted to show the spear he was capable, and he was right that the spear was Gawain's responsibility as its commanding officer. And perhaps the most painful: every soldier there was indeed a mercenary. No matter how much Gawain romanticized Grunwald Security as a place where disenfranchised soldiers could come together and find meaning, at the end of the day they were still there because someone was paying them to be there. And for some of them, that was all there was to it. They didn't need to be heroes, or to feel like they belonged, or to get a second chance. They just needed lien and had a skill set that made them valuable to the company. Sometimes it was just that simple.

Gawain also had to remind himself that he was not Gawain Grunwald, former leader of Beacon Academy's team GLDN and huntsman-in-training in this moment. He was Tristan Evergreen, a Grunwald Security Lieutenant and leader of Timber Company's first spear. Having it out with the spear's huntsman would more harm than good.

"You're right, Mond." Gawain said. "I can't speak for everyone here. I can't assume they joined for the same reason as me. But even so, that doesn't change the fact that eight lives were lost. Even if they were mercenaries. Even if they just came here because the pay was good. Even if they didn't give a damn about their comrades or the mission. They're still dead, and we should at least show them some respect as human beings. I apologize for losing my temper."

Gawain extended his hand. "We're mercenaries, but that doesn't mean we can't be professionals, right?"

Mond eyed Gawain's hand suspiciously for a moment. But after a few seconds, he took it and gave it a firm shake. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

It was at that moment that the medic finally arrived. Mond was ushered into the first aid tent for examination, and Gawain let them be. He decided to return to his own tent, and began working on his formal written report of the day's events. Any sort of color commentary regarding Mond's attitude or Gawain's personal feelings of guilt were absent. He kept the wording as formal and neutral as possible.

As he examined his writing, Gawain thought more and more about the Grimm's odd behavior. It had Mond dead to rights, but it left him to attack the soldiers and lay a trap. When Gawain fought it himself, it tried to disengage and attack the retreating wounded. Why was it going after the soldiers? Was it because they were easier targets? Or perhaps the Grimm was trying thin their numbers? But to what end? It had to more than its natural antipathy towards mankind. There was a tactical edge to its actions.

Gawain's thoughts were interrupted by the smell of food. It was dinner time in the camp. He remembered that he hadn't eaten since the morning before he set out on patrol. Most of their food was comprised of bread, freeze-dried meat, some cheese, and a protein bar. However, for dinners, the chefs often prepared a stew with fresh meat and vegetables bought from Ikebana. Gawain had yet to sample what the company chefs had to offer, but the smell was certainly promising and his empty stomach made it hard to wait.

Gawain stood to go get food, but took a seat again almost immediately. His side was throbbing, each pulse radiating pain up the entire left half of his body. Having a chance to settle down and collect himself meant that his residual adrenaline wasn't numbing the pain anymore. On top of that, Gawain had been using his aura to accelerate the healing process, which also took its toll. But the wound would not heal if Gawain couldn't get nutrients, so he grit his teeth and stood up again. Just as he made it to the edge of his tent, the flap opened.

It was Sergeant Dearg, holding two bowls of steaming hot stew with matching spoons.

"Didn't see you in the chow line." Dearg said. "Figured you were resting, so I brought you some."

"Are you sure you're a mercenary, Sergeant?" Gawain said, taking one of the bowls. "And not a saint?"

"If you knew me when I was younger, you'd know I disqualified myself from _that_ a long time ago. Besides, me and religion haven't always gotten along."

Gawain sat down on his cot and blew on the bowl to cool it down, before taking out the spoon and digging in.

"Mind if I join you?" Dearg asked.

"By all means, Sergeant." Gawain gestured to his chair.

Dearg pulled the chair up and sat across from Gawain. He dipped his spoon into the bowl and began eating. After a few seconds, he said "So I heard about your spat with Mond."

"Is that so?"

"You want my opinion?"

"Speak your mind, Sergeant."

"I think you're both right."

That was not the answer Gawain was expecting.

"Hear me out." the Sergeant continued. "Mond's right. We're mercenaries. Some of us couldn't hack it as huntsmen. Some of us didn't want to join a formal military. But we all wanted to fight, and we all wanted to get paid for it. As far as mercenary companies go, G-Sec is probably the best one. You guys pull recruits from all over, you have a good reputation, _and_ you actually seem to give a damn about your employees. But at the end of the day, we're all still fighting for money."

"However, that doesn't change the fact that we're all in this together. I've been with Timber company for two years and this particular spear for one. I've been fighting with these men and women long enough to know them. To know that they're not _just_ fighting for money. To know that most of them are good, honest folks who're trying to make a living in a dangerous profession. We may not be as close as family or even friends, but we're not strangers. Losing someone you know is still a tragedy you have to deal with. You can't just dismiss it as part of the job, and you shouldn't."

"That didn't seem to stop Mond." Gawain said between mouthfuls.

"There will always be folks like Mond. They keep things at an arm's length. Maybe it's to protect themselves, or maybe it's because they just can't empathize. But he's not in command. _You_ are. And you _care_. And that's what matters."

Dearg took a break to eat some of his stew. Gawain sat in silence, looking at his reflection in the broth. For a second he saw himself as he used to be, with no scars. His hair was down and his wolf ears pressing themselves to his scalp to keep them hidden. It was back when he was a student. Back when he and his teammates and friends would go on missions together. Back when they would fight and bleed for each other. Back when they would encourage and stand up for each other. Fighting that monstrous Grimm in the forest had, in a way, reminded him of those days. He moved his spoon and the reflection rippled and settled back to how he was now. Older, angrier, solemn, and tired.

"Honestly," Dearg resumed. "I'm a bit surprised at how much you care. Either your job as a spy has given you some amazing acting skills..." Dearg hesitated for a moment as a realization dawned on him. "...Or you've lost people before."

Dearg looked liked someone had flipped a switch in his brain. Suddenly disparate facts and observations began to fall into a single cohesive picture.

"It was Beacon, wasn't it?" He asked. "You were there. You were a student. That's why you're not here as a huntsman but you can still fight like one. That's why you thought no one would recognize you, because you'd been in Vale for the past couple of years. That's why you're here and not with your team. That's why you care so much."

Gawain sat in silence and didn't say anything.

"I had no idea. I didn't figure it out until just now." Dearg leaned back into his chair. "Holy crap. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault." Gawain brought his bowl up and drained the rest of the stew in a single gulp. "It's the White Fang's."

"Still, that must've been rough. To attack during the Vytal Festival like that. What a bunch of scum. Those damn furry-" Dearg stopped himself, once again becoming mindful of Gawain's second set of ears. "Oh. Sorry."

"No, you're right, Sergeant. They are scum. Them being faunus has nothing to do with it. Those who rally to the banner of the White Fang are all murderous criminals, and they need to be destroyed. And I intend to be a part of that when the time comes."

"Okay, now this is all starting to make a hell of a lot more sense. Let me guess: your buddy Mordred promised that if you worked for him, then the moment we get a contract to take on the White Fang that he'd put you on it. Am I right?"

Gawain smiled. "Anyone ever tell you you're way too smart to be a mercenary?"

Dearg smiled back. "All the damn time."

"Yes. Mordred promised me that I could be a part of any mission that involved the White Fang, provided I be under his command first and foremost. Since he was the only one at the company to make me that kind of promise, I agreed."

"Selling your soul in the name of vengeance." Dearg whistled. "I think I saw a movie about that once. Didn't turn out too well for anyone involved."

"Those men and women I lost today were my comrades. But at Beacon, I lost my _family_. I'll gladly sell my soul if it means I can cut down Adam Taurus and Sienna Khan."

"Khan? That's pretty ambitious. I don't know if anyone is gonna be gutsy enough to take a contract out on her."

"She's the one who let Taurus off his leash. As far as I'm concerned, she's just as culpable. If no one is is going to hire us to take her out, then maybe I'll do it pro bono. Do the world a favor."

"Pretty sure that's called 'murder'."

"THEY MURDERED MY FRIENDS!" Gawain suddenly stood, teeth and fists clenched, his aura flaring. He winced as the wound in his side threatened to open again. He was breathing heavily and visibly shaking. Dearg didn't flinch.

"Easy there, Lieutenant," Dearg said in a hushed tone. "You're a good man. You proved that today. But you're too young to be dedicating yourself to revenge. Taurus, Khan, the White Fang; they'll get what's coming to them. Maybe it will be you, but maybe it won't. Right now, your spear needs you. And you promised me you would lead them, remember?"

Gawain took a few deep breaths. After taking a second to calm himself, he sat back down. "You're right, Sergeant." He placed his head in his hands. "Today has not been a good day."

"If it's any consolation, you seem to be handling it better than most. But I shouldn't be surprised, you are Gareth Grunwald's son after all."

Gawain suppressed the urge to stand up again. "I wouldn't exactly consider that a compliment, Sergeant."

"Alright, alright. Sorry. I was hoping that I could come in, have a chat, and bring some of the tension down. But it seems I have a knack for riling you up."

"It's not your fault. It's just-" Gawain looked up at the Sergeant. Dearg looked one part concerned and one part hopeful. Like a parent watching their child drive a car by themselves for the first time. Gawain resumed his thought. "It's just that some of this is familiar to me, but some of it is new, too. I've led a team before, but this is my first time leading soldiers. I've fought Grimm before but this is the first time one's managed to get the jump on me. I've felt anger, fear, and hatred before, but this is the first time I've never had anyone to talk to about it."

This time, it was Dearg who stood. He placed a hand on Gawain's shoulder. "Well, now you do. If Gawain Grunwald needs to talk to someone, you talk to me, got it?"

"Thank you, Sergeant."

"No need for that. It's a sergeant's duty to make sure the lieutenant doesn't lose his head. I'm just doing my job."

"Does this mean my life matters to you now?"

"Eh, I'm still on the fence about that." The sergeant smiled.

"I guess I'll just have to be content with your sage advice."

"Yes, and for my next bit of sage advice, I suggest you get some rest tonight. We'll be doing shifts on the perimeter of the town for the rest of the week starting at dawn. I better not catch you sleeping at your post."

"I appreciate the advice. Good night, sergeant."

Dearg took both empty bowls with him as he left. Gawain gave one more look over his report and handed it in to the captain. As evening fell, he crawled into his cot, and fell into a thankfully dreamless sleep.


	5. Daily Grind

Gawain always hated perimeter defense missions. At Beacon, he would avoid them at all costs, and only ever did them when it was a required for a class. They were just so _boring_. Standing around in one spot for hours and hours, just waiting for something to happen. His partner at Beacon, Lonan, had loved them. It was the perfect excuse to relax and slack off. For Gawain, all it did was make him stir-crazy.

But that's how things were done in Grunwald Security. Now instead of actively looking for Grimm, they would wait for the Grimm to come to them. After sweeping the area the previous day, the spears spent the rest of the week on static defense around Ikebana. The patrols were meant to deal with any wandering Grimm in the area, and the perimeter defense would catch any that had managed to evade the patrols. The fireteams were spread out, encircling the town, with teams posted at the roads and in hastily thrown-together guard towers that poked out just above the trees. They would report anything unusual and check in every hour. The downtime allowed Gawain's torso wound to fully heal, but that only took a few days. The rest was rote guard duty.

Gawain tried to spend each day with a different fireteam in his spear. He made sure to learn their names, where they were from, and ask about what their experience had been like since they took on the current mission. From them, Gawain had learned that when the Cohorts first arrived in the region, the Grimm were numerous and aggressive, but seemed to have refrained from attacking any settlements. After the Second had begun its patrols, there was a surge in attacks and encounters that quickly died down after a few weeks. Then the Third Cohort got wiped out. Since then, there hadn't been any other large incursions, until Gawain showed up. Gawain's encounter with the new Grimm, which Corcra had dubbed "Hunter-Killer" in his report, was the largest loss they had suffered since the Third Cohort. That particular fact did not help Gawain's morale.

On the sixth day of guard duty, Gawain found himself among familiar faces. It was fireteam Cutlass, stationed at the northern road that led into the town. Of the four, only Corporal Braun seemed happy to see him.

"Hey, LT." Braun said, waving. "What brings you to our neck of the woods?"

"I've been bouncing back and forth between the fireteams, trying to get a feel for the area." Gawain lifted his head and scented the air. Leaves, grass, warmth; it smelled like summer. "I understand why people would want to live here. It's beautiful."

"Yeah, when there's not an Ursa bearing down on you." Blanche interjected.

"You're still bitter over that?" Braun asked.

"Yeah, I'm still bitter."

"What does the man have to do to make it up to you? I mean, he took on that horror-show of a Grimm all on his own, didn't he? He's in the green in my book."

"I believe the phrase is 'in the black'." Gawain corrected. "But thank you, corporal. And I can't take sole credit for the Hunter-Killer. If you guys hadn't worn it down I don't think I would've stood a chance."

"Is that what they're calling that thing?" Pavalon joined in. "Seems a little on-the-nose."

"That's what Corcra decided to call it, after how easily it bested Mond. The Mistral council might hand down a more official designation later."

"Speaking of Mond," Braun added, "I just want you to know that I'm on your side. I'm a merc, yeah, but when I was a kid I always wanted to be a huntsman. I tried, I really did, but in the end I couldn't even make it through combat school. I didn't have the smarts to be a policeman, and Vale doesn't have a standing army I could join. I was gonna just settle for some kind of desk job when I got a brochure from a cousin in Mistral. So I flew over here and signed up. They trained me, fed me, and paid me. I got to meet all sorts of people, and now I'm out here, protecting them from the monsters I used to have nightmares about. I may not be a huntsman, but I'm not useless either. And it's all thanks to G-Sec."

Gawain smiled, but the moment was quickly ruined when Blanche uttered a dismissive "Pfft. That's why you're out here?"

"Yeah! Why're you out here, Blanche?"

"It's just like Mond said. I'm here to get paid. I've always been able to handle myself in a scrap, and if I'm good at something, why would I do it for free? I shoot who they tell me to shoot, get Lien into my bank account, and then I'll retire and spend the rest of my days in comfort."

"Wow, how predictably shallow."

"Scoff all you want, I'm here to do my job and make my living. Whatever reason anyone else has for joining ain't my business and I don't care."

"Well _I_ care." Gawain said, looking towards Pavalon and Meadows. "That is, if you're willing to share."

"Sure," Pavalon said, "I don't see why not. The truth is, I have a record. When I was young and stupid I got mixed up with some bad folks. Mixed up in a way that ended in jail time. When I got out, I wanted a fresh start. But not a lot of places were willing to hire an ex-con. I managed to meet a G-Sec recruiter while I was drowning my sorrows in an Atlesian bar. Gave him my resume, they did a background check, and after a few interviews they hired me. Since they decided to give me a shot, I've been trying to do right by them."

"And you, Meadows?"

Meadows didn't take her eyes off of the road she had been watching. "Grew up in Vacuo. Hated it. Wanted to get out, so now I'm here. That's about it."

Gawain nodded. "Understandable. You all already know my story. It seems we come from all walks of life."

"Pleeease don't be gearing up for a 'camaraderie and brotherhood' speech." Blanche groaned.

"Relax. I'm just trying to learn. About this place, about the people I'm leading. If there's one thing Mond and I can agree on it's that I _am_ new here. But the more I learn and the more I know, the better I can do my job."

Braun sneered at Blanche. "See Blanche? He's trying."

"Trying doesn't count for nothing if you end up on the business end of one of those Grimm's sickles." Blanche sneered back.

"Fat chance. That had to be some kind of Boss Grimm. No way we'll see another one."

Gawain's wolf ears perked up. "Boss Grimm?"

"Y'know, a Boss Grimm. One of those one-of-a-kind, once-in-a-lifetime type of Grimm that usually have huge bounties on them. The kind that lure huntsmen trying to make a name for themselves to their doom. Like that big Dragon-thing that attacked Beacon months ago, or the Nuckelavee out west."

"The what?"

"Oh, don't get him started…" Pavalon sighed.

"You haven't heard of the Nuckelavee?" Braun's eyes lit up. "It's a local legend in Anima's outer territories. A real nasty village-destroyer. They say it only comes out once every couple of decades, but it looks like something woke it up early because there are rumors that it's been spotted in the west."

"Rumors, Braun." Blanche interrupted. "'Rumors' is the key word. It's probably just bandits. They've been more active lately, stepping up their raids. They're probably just using the legend of the Nuckel-whatever as a scapegoat."

"Nukel-avee! And it's not just a rumor. There have been actual sightings. They say it has four legs and two heads, and that its scream can stop a man's heart!"

"You seem to be rather fascinated with this Grimm." Gawain said.

"Well, I mean, the Grimm used to give me nightmares as a kid. I was terrified of them. So I decided to learn as much as I could about them, to try and make myself less scared, y'know? And the more I learned, the less scary they became. And I ended up thinking that some of them were kinda cool, when they're not killing people and all that."

"Braun is what we like to call an 'impressionable youth'." Pavalon added.

"Anyway," Braun continued, ignoring Pavalon, "that's what I think this 'hunter-killer' thing was. It was big, had weird abilities, and could go toe-to-toe with a huntsman. That's pretty much the definition of a Boss Grimm, if you ask me."

Two high-level Grimm appearing within such a short amount of time of each other. Maybe this was the lead Gawain had been waiting for. He decided to press Braun a little more.

"You mentioned that this Grimm 'woke up early'. When was the last time it attacked?"

Braun thought for a moment. "Ten or so years ago, roundabouts. Wiped out a few villages and then disappeared before any huntsmen could track it down. But that's the thing, usually it disappears for about twenty years or more at a time. It's basically ten years ahead of schedule."

"Any idea as to what could have woken it up?"

"Dunno. All this business with the Vytal festival maybe? All that negativity could be like a big dinner bell for it. Might be what brought the Hunter-Killer too." Braun paused for a moment, looking a bit disappointed. "We really ought to come up with a better name for it, don't you think?"

"Why?" Meadows asked. "It's dead. You said it yourself, that was probably the only one. No point in renaming it now."

"I dunno, 'Hunter-Killer' just kind of sounds lame."

"No one ever accused Corcra of being a poet." Gawain chuckled. "Blanche, you said that bandits were operating in the same region as that Nuckel...um...thing. Do we get any bandits down here?"

Blanche gave Gawain a confident grin. "Of course not. They know better. Bandits only attack weak targets. They'd be stupid to run up against us."

"Damn right." Pavalon said with a nod.

"I see." Gawain continued. "What about White Fang? I know they're based in Mistral and that they were responsible for the attack at Beacon. Has there been any trouble from them?"

"None that I can think" Braun replied. "They tend to hover around closer to the capital. We don't have a lot of encounters with them."

That you know about, Gawain thought. Images from his missions near Windpath flashed through his head. The roar of gunfire, the smell of blood and smoke, and the cries of terrified faunus.

"You okay, LT?" Braun asked him.

Gawain looked down and saw that his fists were clenched so tightly that they were beginning to shake. He waved Braun off. "It's fine. Just trying to figure out if there's an explanation behind why these Grimm are showing up now of all times."

"I think Braun's idea about the Vytal Festival makes the most sense." Pavalon said. "Atlas robots firing on civilians. White Fang and Grimm running amok. And all of it was broadcast to the world right before the CCT network went down. Now you got a bunch of these Boss Grimm running around."

"Speaking of which, do you think this Hunter-Killer could have been what got the Third Cohort?"

"Doubt it. Not by itself at least. The Third was made up of vets. And they had what? Fifteen? Twenty huntsmen stationed with them? That thing got Mond pretty good but it wouldn't have been able to stand up to that much firepower."

"I suppose you're right. But a horde of Grimm large enough to wipe out a cohort and it's attachment of huntsman couldn't have simply snuck passed the Second's patrols. Which means it was probably another one of these 'Boss Grimm'. Or, possibly, more than one."

Braun shuddered. Gawain couldn't exactly blame the man. The encounter with the Hunter-Killer was painful enough. The prospect of going up against more like it, especially on a patrol with their forces spread out, was frightening. Gawain attempted to lift the mood by adding "But if there were that many high-level Grimm wandering about, someone would've noticed by now."

"Right, right." Braun said. "It's like I said, once-in-a-lifetime."

"And we've cashed ours in." said Pavalon. "It should be smooth sailing from here on out."

"We can only hope."

The rest of the day was as uneventful as the others spent on perimeter defense. The next day the first and second spears were reassembled and sent out on patrols again. This time, everything went more or less according to plan. Grimm were destroyed as quickly as they were encountered, with Grunwald Security suffering no casualties. Gawain put together his report for Mordred: a summation of the information he had gathered from the rest of the spear as well as his own observations of the Hunter-Killer. The message was encrypted in the manner Mordred had taught him, using a book Gawain had brought with him as the encryption key. Mordred had his own copy, which he would use to decrypt the message. Given the information Gawain was dealing with, most of which had been covered in Corcra's own earlier report, there was no real need to encrypt the message. But as Mordred had said before Gawain set off from Atlas, this mission was meant to be part of his training as a spy. If he couldn't encode simple messages, how could he be trusted with more sensitive information?

The following week on perimeter defense was different from the previous in that the first and second spears switched shifts. In the previous week, the first stood guard during the day and the second at night. Night had a higher risk of Grimm attack, but it was typically only a slightly higher chance. Gawain preferred working the night shift. He had fewer nightmares while sleeping during the day, and his terrors had a lower chance of waking anyone else up.

On the fourth night of his perimeter defense duty, the boredom was broken by the sudden sound of shouting and gunfire. The entire outpost was roused, and the spears readied for battle. Gawain shouted into his scroll for a sitrep.

"Bandits! About a dozen or more of them. We got them pinned down!" A Corporal named Lisica Kowalski managed to relay.

"Hold tight, we're on our way!" Gawain ordered. "Fireteams Cutlass, Otachi, and Gladius, rendezvous at Kowalski's location ASAP! All remaining fireteams hold your positions, there could be more!"

"Yessir!" the fireteam leaders responded in unison.

By the time Gawain arrived at the scene, the battle was already over. Well "battle" might have been an overly generous term. Kowalski's fireteam Falchion had managed to hold them off until Fireteams Cutlass and Gladius flanked them. Otachi had managed to cut off their retreat. The bandits were all lightly armed, and didn't appear to be expecting any kind of armed resistance. They were sat in a group, twenty or so with their hands and feet bound with zip-ties that G-Sec kept on hand for such occasions. A few of the bandits were bruised and bloodied, but were otherwise alive. None of the fireteams had so much as a scratch.

"Caught 'em creeping along the west road, sir." Kowalski reported. "What should we do with them?"

"Call it in and keep them detained for now." Gawain said. "The Captain will probably send for someone from Kuchinashi to come and get them. There's gotta be some kind of jailhouse in the town we can throw them in in the meantime."

"I'll coordinate with the town's sheriff."

"Good idea, Corporal."

Kowalski took off to fetch the sheriff, which left Gawain and Dearg to watch over their new prisoners.

"So, Blanche, what did you say earlier about bandits showing up?" Gawain asked, loud enough for the bandits to hear.

"That they'd have to be stupid to go up against us." Blanche retorted.

"That sounds about right."

That managed to get a few laughs out of the surrounding Grunwald soldiers. It seemed the cajoling was too much for one of the bandits to bare.

"Hey, screw you guys!" yelled one of the bandits. He was a brawny, older man. A white tiger tattoo arced up from beneath his vest collar and along his next, with one of its paws extending onto his left cheek. It was an old tattoo, the color had faded significantly. "If the rest of the tribe had been here, you wouldn't be laughing!"

"The tribe?" Gawain arched an eyebrow.

Dearg chimed in. "Back in olden times, Mistral wasn't so much a kingdom as it was a collection of independent clans vying for territory. Then the first Mistrali Emperor set out to unify the region, absorbing any clans that would bend the knee and destroying those that didn't. A lot of bandits 'round these parts like to style themselves as successors to those independent clans, calling themselves 'tribes'. Of course, the rest of civilized society just calls them what they are: 'bandits'."

The tattooed bandit spat. "How the hell did a bunch of villagers get a militia formed this quickly!?"

Gawain and Dearg exchanged smirks. "They didn't. They opted to hire professionals." That got another round of laughs from the soldiers. But Gawain noticed something in the bandit's expression change.

"Wait...you're _mercs_? Are things really that bad out here too?"

That made Gawain's ears perk up. He took a step closer to the bandit and crouched in front of him.

"What do you mean 'bad out here too'?"

The man's eyes welled up in defiance for a brief moment, as if he was about to spit in Gawain's face. But his expression softened, his shoulder slumped, and whatever fire had been burning inside him had quickly been snuffed out.

"Oh, what's the point?" He said, hanging his head. "The whole continent is going to hell."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gawain pressed. "Are you talking about the Grimm?"

"I'm talking about all of it. First the damn Branwens push us out of our territory, then the White Fang and Mistral huntsmen harass us as we tried to move camp..."

"Branwens?" The name sounded familiar to Gawain, but he could not place when or where he had heard it.

"They're another bandit tribe out west." Dearg said. "Old and mean, they've got a pretty nasty reputation."

"But they weren't the worst of it." The bandit continued. "Those things; those Grimm out here in the southern forests. They're what got most of us." He turned to look at his captured compatriots. "We're all that's left."

"These Grimm that attacked you, could you describe them?" Gawain asked.

"Big. Claws like scythe blades. Black whips on its back and a tail that could shatter a man's spine with a single swipe. And the worst part: they could change color and hide. You never knew when a tree was going to suddenly come to life and rip you apart. We barely managed to get away."

Gawain nodded. "Sounds like the Hunter-killer."

"The what?"

"What we called it. It's one less thing to worry about now, we managed to take it down. I imagine you called it something else?"

"Rakshasa." The bandit shuddered as he spoke the word. "We call them Rakshasas."

"See?" Braun interrupted. "Now _that's_ a name."

Gawain didn't hear Braun's words. His blood turned to ice in his veins. He grabbed the bandit by the shoulders and pulled him forward.

"Them?" He asked, looking the bandit directly in the eye. "Did you just say _'them'?!"_

"Y-yeah. There were just over a hundred of us when we ran into three of them. We couldn't even scratch them, we had to run for it. We're the only ones who made it."

Gawain hoisted the man to his feet, still keeping a firm grip on his shoulders. "When was this?! Where!?"

"Ow! Easy there, man! It had to be about a week ago. Maybe thirty or so kilometers west of here. What's got you so spooked? I thought you said you killed one?"

Gawain let go of him and he stumbled back to the ground. "Yeah" Gawain said. " _One_. I need to talk to the captain. _Now_."

...

"Ramblings of a desperate criminal!" Corcra scoffed, taking yet another sip of cold coffee. "He's just trying to throw us off."

"But what if he's telling the truth!?" Gawain objected. "If there are more of those things out there, we are not equipped to deal with them!"

"Lad, I've been doing this for along time. I can tell you right now that if an entire species of Grimm capable of taking on huntsmen one-on-one existed, humanity would've gone extinct a long time ago."

"Then how would you explain what happened to the Third? There's no way a horde of Grimm could've snuck past the Second, and that Hunter-killer couldn't have done it on its own. But if there was a few of them, even just one for each huntsman, that could've been enough. We need to prepare ourselves for the possibility of an attack from more of those things."

"And how would you suggest we do that, Lieutenant? We're stretched thin as it is. We can't exactly make weapons and manpower appear out of thin air."

"Mobilize the First Cohort. Get them out here to reinforce Ikebana."

"And leave the Mistral HQ unguarded? Have you lost your mind? The syndicates would tear us apart if they sensed weakness. The First is one of the few things keeping Kuchinashi from turning into a crime den. Commander Erin wouldn't have it."

"Then request one of the Atlesian Cohorts. There has to be someone up there that isn't tied up in a contract."

Corcra looked confused for a moment. It made Gawain nervous.

"You haven't heard?" Corcra asked.

"Heard what?"

"Ah, that's right, you're on the night shift now so I guess no one's told you." Corcra downed what remained of his coffee. "The Atlesian council just issued a travel ban. No one in or out of Atlas for the foreseeable future. On top of that, they enacted a Dust embargo and withdrew all of their foreign-based troops. Mistral's northern territories are now exposed."

Gawain felt light-headed. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong. The threat of more Hunter-killers was now looming over them, and reinforcements were out of the question. Corcra may be in denial, but Gawain could see the writing on the wall.

"Sir, the bandit said he encountered the Hunter-killers less than 30 kilometers west of here. Ikebana is the closest settlement. If those Grimm are still on the move, that means they're coming here next."

"That's _if_ he's telling the tru-"

"The lone one we encountered a few weeks ago must have been a scout. It was observing our patrol patterns and trying to thin out our numbers. It was trying to soften us up for a bigger attack!"

"Lieutenant! Do not interrup-"

"Sir, what is SOP when a spear or company loses too many men?!"

The question derailed Corcra's attempt to reprimand Gawain, forcing him to think for a moment.

"Um, well, we'd consolidate our forces and redistribute personnel as needed."

"Meaning we'd pull our forces into one location. That's what they want! They're going to wipe us out in a single attack, just like the Third."

"Lieutenant Evergreen, you're being paranoid! I understand your fear, but this is your first time in the field. We can't always assume the worst, otherwise we'd be wasting both time and resources. I would ask that you take a moment and calm yourself before you do something you regret."

Gawain wanted to tell him right then and there. He wanted to tell Corcra that he wasn't Tristan Evergreen, that this wasn't his first time in the field, and that he wasn't being paranoid. This tension and unease is something he's felt before. After the breach in the City of Vale, after the Atlesian troop surge, Gawain became suspicious but never acted on it. He simply assumed these events were outliers. It wasn't until the Beacon campus was swarming with Grimm that he realized that they were merely precursors. He wasn't about to let his spear get caught flat-footed.

"Sir, I-" Gawain fought the urge to tell the truth, and instead took a half measure. "I recommend we at least stop patrols for now."

"Evergreen, the patrols are how we keep the area clear. The locals haven't seen a Grimm in months because we sweep the surroundings. If we stop them then the Grimm will start to encroach on the town. It could cause panic, which would only draw more Grimm."

"But sir, if there are more of those Hunter-killers out there, any fireteam that gets caught without a huntsman is going to be DOA. We can't risk it. Ikebana is a fortified position. It has walls and towers we can use. If we maintain a stronger perimeter defense, then at the very least our troops will have some kind of cover to fall back to. But the forest is _their_ home turf. If we keep up the patrols, we're asking to get ambushed again."

Corcra scratched his beard. "I'll take it under advisement, Lieutenant. We have two days until the next patrol. I'll let you know my decision by then. Dismissed."

Gawain nodded and left the tent. He returned to his post at Ikebana's border. No mention was made of his conversation with the bandit or Corcra to his fireteams. Gawain spent the rest of the night intently watching the treeline in the distance. Waiting.


	6. Maps and Monsters

"You know, I don't think revealing your identity would've helped much." Dearg said as he watched Gawain pace back and forth in the tent while he sat eating his dinner, another round of hot stew. It had been a day since the bandits had been apprehended. "Gawain Grunwald and Tristan Evergreen are both first lieutenants. It's not like you'd suddenly gain more official authority by outing yourself."

"I wouldn't. But it would increase the soft power I could wield."

"Soft power?"

"It's a political term. It's the ability to exert influence without the use of force. I don't have rank or authority, but Corcra might be hesitant to cross Gareth Grunwald's son."

"I thought you Grunwalds despised nepotism."

"We do." Gawain sighed and halted his pacing. "My uncles and cousins occupy positions of power in the company, and all through their own merits and strength. But not everyone knows that. I imagine most assume it _is_ nepotism."

"Only the ones who've never seen them fight. Lehti is as ferocious as they come, and Erina is a damn terror."

"Spoken like someone who's met them in person." Gawain suppressed a laugh.

"Only briefly, a few years ago. Lehti I could deal with. He was brutal, but fair. I never felt like I couldn't understand what he was thinking. But that Erina... I have no idea what's going on in her head, beyond being three steps ahead of everyone else. And until I met you, I'd never seen someone so comfortable in a war zone. That girl scares me."

"Erina scares _everyone_. Except maybe her father, her sisters, or my father."

"Even you?"

"I'm not stupid. I'd rather fight three of those Rakshasas at once than fight her."

"Oh, so you're calling them that too now?"

Gawain hadn't realized he had been using the bandit's name for the Grimm until the sergeant pointed it out. He supposed Braun was right, that the name did have a better ring to it than "hunter-killer". It was also less of a mouthful.

"I'm not the only one?" Gawain asked.

"Word spreads fast. Most people in the camp are calling that sickle-monster a 'Rakshasa' now. Guess it just rolls off the tongue better. Unfortunately that's not the only information going around."

"Oh?"

"That rumor from the bandits about there being more of them out in the forest is all over the camp. A few folks are rattled, especially from our Spear. Some have been talking about postponing the patrols, like you asked Corcra to do."

"Can't say I blame them. The Rakshasas' ability to camouflage on top of their native lethality would make any soldier anxious."

"Any chance that Corcra is right and the bandits were just trying to spook us?"

Gawain shook his head. "Doubtful. They described its ability and appearance too accurately. And we checked their gear after we caught them. Their supplies were meager at best, and most of their weapons were almost dry on ammunition. Yet in spite of that, they were still willing to try and attack the town, rather than scout it out first like sensible raiders would do. Corcra was right about one thing: they were desperate."

Dearg finished his dinner, placing the bowl and spoon on Gawain's desk. "Most bandit tribes I'm aware of would prefer to go down fighting than get starved out or ask for help. They knew this was make or break for them. They must've figured they would have an easier time against townsfolk than those Grimm."

"And they didn't know we were here. Which was fortunate for both the townspeople and us."

"It's easier to get the drop on an enemy if they don't know you're there. It worked for that Rakshasa, sure enough."

Gawain's spine straightened. His entire body went cold. It wasn't fear. It was more of a dawning comprehension as his brain tried to catch up with that his gut already knew. His experience and education as a huntsmen, combined with the predatory instincts he inherited from the wolf, had been piecing together the puzzle in the back of his mind without him realizing it. But consciously, Gawain had yet to draw the line that connected all of the pieces together. But the answer was there. He could _feel_ it.

"Sergeant," Gawain ordered, "I need a map. Now."

Dearg took off without hesitation and fetched a spare map from the logistics tent. It was fairly detailed, with every notable road, river, town, and landmark in Mistral's territory marked. Grunwald Security's cartographers were nothing if not thorough.

Dearg placed the map on Gawain's desk and pulled up a chair to sit down. Gawain oriented the map so that both he and Dearg could read it, and then took out a pen and began marking it. "Why, Sergeant, do you think Mordred had me come out here?"

Dearg pondered for a moment, scratching his chin. "To be honest, I thought you were investigating Corcra." Gawain paused his marking to arch an eyebrow in Dearg's direction. "Not for anything obvious, but he always seemed jittery to me. When you showed up I thought that HQ had reason to be suspicious of him for whatever reason."

"Not a bad guess, but incorrect. Not about Corcra being jittery, but why I'm here." Gawain drew a big circle around Ikebana, and marked where the G-Sec outpost was with an X. "Mordred believes that the Grimm in Mistral were acting weird."

"Weird how?"

"Coordinated. Tactical. Almost as if they had some kind of command structure."

Dearg blinked. "Ok, I know that old Grimm can be pretty damn smart. But if they could _think_ , there'd be none of us here now, would there? As in humanity as a whole would've been doomed on day one."

"Maybe that's the idea." Gawain spoke as he made several more marks on the map. "All around the Kingdom, huntsmen are being picked off on otherwise routine missions. Towns and villages on the outskirts are being razed overnight, and Boss Grimm are starting to wake up and become more common." Gawain finished his editing and capped his pen. "Maybe we're not seeing a spike in Grimm activity. Maybe this is a preamble."

"Preamble to what?"

Gawain hesitated. He knew the word he needed to say, but dreaded uttering it out loud. It was as if saying it would somehow make it a certainty. He took a deep breath. "War."

The sergeant tilted his head. "War? With...the _Grimm?_ Correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't we been at war with them since the dawn of time?"

"War is about achieving a victory. Up until now, the Grimm have hunted us much like predators would. Their unique bodies, strength, and single-minded drive to kill humans made them dangerous, but their behavior was otherwise 'natural'. Grimm attacks were more like natural disasters than military campaigns. The Grimm had no sense of tactics or strategy. They merely acted on instinct. But look here:" Gawain pointed on the map. "This is Ikebana. And here" he pointed to the X next to it, "is our outpost. Here" he pointed to the circle to the right of Ikebana, "is Shiragiku, where G-Sec's Red Company is stationed. And here," he pointed to a third circle even further to the right, "is Himawari, where Grey Company is. These areas," Gawain tapped three larger circles that were below each of the towns, "are the approximate areas that we cover when we patrol. And finally here," Gawain pointed to an X that resided north of the three towns, between them and Kuchinashi "is about where the Third Cohort had its FOB established."

Dearg nodded. "I follow you so far."

"Before, we assumed that somehow a massive Grimm horde had somehow managed to sneak in. But it didn't make sense, as they would've had to go through the patrol zones, or around us entirely. But look at the terrain between these towns and where the cohort was."

"All open fields and farm land. If a massive Grimm horde wanted to go around, they'd have no cover. They would've been spotted long before they got to the FOB."

"Exactly. Or they would've gone through the patrol zones, which would still have given them early warning. Either way, they wouldn't have been taken by surprise in the dead of night. But now we know about the Rakshasas. We know how strong they are, and how they can camouflage. And more importantly, we know there's more than one of them. I think they're the ones responsible for wiping out the Third."

"A surgical strike. Like when we send in our Knights or-"

"Vernichtung." Gawain whispered. Every branch of the Grunwald security had it's own squad of "Knights", huntsmen and huntresses considered to be the strongest of that particular branch's number. Gawain's cousins, Lehti and Erina, were both knights in their respective branches. "Vernichtung" was the equivalent for Mordred's Special Tasks Group. They were comprised of Grunwald Security's deadliest assassins.

"Yeah, Mordred's vipers. Never liked how we kept murderers and assassins on the payroll. I'm glad you're just a spy and not one of them." Dearg looked up from the map. "Right?"

"Do I look like the assassin type?"

Dearg smiled. "'Course not. I figured you'd be more likely to be one of the Knights one day. Suits you better."

A part of Gawain was relieved. His acting skill had finally managed to improve. It was the first time he had managed to sneak a lie past the Sergeant. Gawain was Mordred's latest recruit into Vernichtung. As a rule, Vernichtung members' identities were kept secret from everyone but other members and the branch commanders. Gawain had only met a few of them since his induction. They were less than pleasant people.

"The questions remain." Gawain resumed. "Where did they come from? Why are they showing up now? And where are they now?"

"The cohort was sandwiched between the three southern towns and Kuchinashi. Kuchinashi has some of the best defenses in the kingdom, and its skies are patrolled on a regular basis. Not to mention that north of that is the capital. There's no way Grimm of this caliber came from the north."

"So that rules out one direction. The east has a lot of open territory, ending in a desert before running right into the ocean. But the Rakshasas seem more suited for terrestrial combat than water or desert combat. So I think we can rule that out too."

Dearg scratched his chin. "So that leaves the south or the west."

"Coming from the south would mean going through us. It wouldn't be impossible, but it would be harder for them than coming from the west. That also fits with what the bandits told us. They encountered three of them while they were on their way to us."

"Sounds like the west is their origin, then."

"It also makes sense with the fact that our company was the first to encounter one. Ikebana is the westernmost of the southern towns. But something still bothers me."

"What's that?"

Gawain traced his finger on the map. "If the Grimm came from the west, attacked the Third Cohort, and then attacked the bandits on their way here, that would mean that they doubled back to where they started."

"Maybe they were returning to a den of some kind? It's not unheard of for Grimm to have a home turf."

"Right, and that does make sense we you consider that Grimm act and behave like animals." Gawain's ears perked up. "But what if, just for now, we assumed they were behaving like us?"

"Like humans?"

"Like _soldiers_." Gawain began drawing arrows point towards the Third's FOB from the east. "Say we were to launch a surgical strike against an enemy to destroy their outpost. What then? We would either remain in the area to secure it, or return to base, right?" Gawain drew another arrow pointing from the FOB to the east. "For us, it's because we have to resupply and recover from any casualties or injuries. For Grimm, it's mostly just to recover from injury."

"Ok, I'm beginning to lose the thread here. Why does that matter?"

"Because the Rakshasa can camouflage. If they were injured, they could recover _anywhere_. They'd have no need for a den. A den would be for…" Gawain trailed off.

"For what? A den would be for what?"

"Other Grimm." Gawain looked back at the map. "Sergeant, if we were to try and make a staging area for a cohort, where in this circle, "Gawain drew a massive circle around the area west of Ikebana, "would be the best place?"

"For a staging area? Probably...here." He pointed to an area of thick forest that was split by a large river. "It's far away from any settlements, and the forest would provide good cover. But what does this have to do with the Grimm? I don't see anywhere for a Grimm den to exist."

"Because there isn't one. Because we're not looking for a den. We're looking for an FOB."

"An FOB? A Grimm _base?_ You can't be serious."

"Not a base like we understand it, but the Grimm equivalent. Think about it. After G-Sec came to this area, the Grimm in this area provided a strong resistance to our presence, but it quickly dropped off not long after. We assumed it was because we thinned their numbers, but what if that's because they were drawn off to somewhere else?"

"Like they were given marching orders?"

"Something like that. The Grimm began marshalling their forces there. In the meantime, they've been probing our defenses here for weaknesses, figuring out our patrol routes and formations. When they found the Third Cohort, they sent their special forces to take it out. This is all preparation for a massive strike."

"Against where? Kuchinashi?" Dearg scoffed. "Let them try, the city's defenses are impregnable."

Gawain clenched his fists. "So were Vale's."

"Vale was attacked by Grimm _and_ the White Fang. We're talking about an army of Grimm alone. There haven't been any White Fang sighted here in the south."

Gawain tried to keep the memories of Beacon's fall from pushing out the logic and evidence in front of him. He needed to think clearly. "It's a fair point. Kuchinashi would be a poor target. Plus, like you said earlier, a Grimm horde moving against Kuchinashi would get caught between the city's defenses and us, if we chose to help. It would be a losing scenario for them."

Dearg crossed his arms. "So if this horde exists, and that's a big IF, mind you, where would it be going?"

"Kuchinashi is out, and Mistral is too far and too guarded. That just leaves us." Gawain took his pen and drew a straight line through Ikebana. "They'd come here. Wipe Ikebana, Shiragiku, and Himawari off the map."

"Why? Why these towns?"

"I told you this is war, sergeant. War is about achieving victory. For Grimm, victory is the destruction of mankind. It could be that simple. Or…" Gawain looked at the plots of land north of Ikebana and the other southern towns. "Sergeant, how much of the food farmed here is sold locally?"

Dearg thought for a moment. "I don't know the exact figures, but I'd say it's about 70-30 split. Most of it gets shipped elsewhere."

"That clenches it, then. They're not just going to destroy the towns, but the crops too."

"Cut off the food supply to the entire region. Starve Kuchinashi out."

"Or at the very least, force Mistral to shift its resources around. Even if they only manage to destroy one town, it would put a strain on supplies. The Grimm don't have to worry about things like logistical support. But we do. They're going to use that against us."

"Okay this is starting to sound _very_ bad, but this is also just a worst-case scenario. We don't know if this Grimm horde is even real. All we have to go on is these Rakshasas and their weird behavior."

"You're right. But even so, the Rakshasas were able to wipe out the Third Cohort in a single night on their own. Even if there isn't a horde following them, they present enough of a danger by themselves. And there's no guarantee that they won't try and attack the town."

"So what would you suggest then, lieutenant? Go out and try to eliminate all the Rakshasas before they attack? Or maybe wait for them to come to us.?"

"If we wait for them to attack, they'll be the ones holding all the cards. Those Rakshasas have been probing our patrols for quite some time. They probably have a good sense of our defenses. If they attack in force, it'll be because they know they can win."

"So we take the fight to them, then?"

Gawain shook his head. "We don't have the manpower for that. A single Rakshasa can take out a huntsman all on its own. And if they do have other Grimm to back them up, assaulting them with our low numbers would turn into a massacre."

"It sounds like we're stuck between a rock and a hard place."

"There is one thing we could try, but it would be risky."

"And what's that?"

"We force their hand. Get them to commit to their strike early, before they can consolidate their forces. Break them with a solid defense they can't overcome."

"And how would we do that?"

"We convince them it's their only option. The reason we don't know if there's a horde or not is because they've done a good job at hiding it. But if we can convince them that their cover's blown, they might move up their timetable."

"And if they don't, they'll be sitting ducks for a more coordinated strike."

"Exactly. Intelligence is key here. We need to confirm whether or not this horde exists, and if so, where it is. But that would require going outside of our patrol zone."

"And into _their_ territory."

"Indeed. And this all hinges on what might just be paranoia on my part. Which is why I'm going to do it, alone."

Dearg stood up, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. "Are you _crazy_? Even if there isn't a horde, if you get caught by those Rakshasas, you're dead! I don't care that you managed to beat one, we know there are at least three more out there, and probably more than that! Going outside the patrol zone would be a death trap!"

"It's possible that the patrol zone itself is a death trap now." Gawain moved to his cot and began packing supplies.

Dearg looked confused. "Wait. You're going _now?!_ "

"Time is of the essence, Sergeant. If we wait for the Rakshasas to come to us, we may have already lost." Gawain gathered food, maps, and ammunition, storing them securely in his pack. "And before you ask, no, I'm not asking for anyone's permission."

Dearg raised a hand in protest. "At least let me come with you. You'll need someone to watch your back when you're neck-deep in Grimm country."

"No, I need you here to help lead the first spear. Besides I'm not going to drag anyone else into my insubordination. One advantage of having a pseudonym is that I can use it to take all the blame. As of this moment, Timber Company's Lieutenant Tristan Evergreen is officially AWOL. STG Lieutenant Gawain Grunwald is going to fulfill his mission."

Gawain made his way to his tent's exit, but Dearg inserted himself between Gawain and the flap. "And if I decide I'm going to stop you, then what?"

"Do you really want to try?"

"I'm not going to let you kill yourself."

Gawain winced. "Listen, if I get caught, then G-Sec only loses one lieutenant and not an entire company. It's better this way." Gawain attempted to leave again.

Again, Dearg stopped him. "I know you still feel guilty about Beacon, and you've kept putting yourself in risky positions because you feel like you didn't deserve to live while your friends died."

Gawain took a step back, half angry and half shocked. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know damn well what I'm talking about. At first I thought it was all just bravado; the new kid trying to prove himself. But now I see it for what it really is. You put yourself at the head of the formation on your first patrol. You chose to fight that Rakshasa by yourself. You signed up with Mordred so you could wage a one-man war against the White Fang. And now you're jumping into the jaws of the beast on a _hunch_. I've seen this before, you know? Folks like you that survived a battle that their friends didn't. Folks like you that don't talk about the future, about what they want to do with their life. And it's because you don't think you have one. You don't think you _deserve_ one."

"You said it yourself when we first met: my life doesn't matter. I'm inclined to agree." Gawain made another attempt at the exit, but was rebuffed once more by the sergeant stepping in front of him. "I think that's about enough, sergeant." Gawain's voice was weighted with cold anger. His aura flared, and Dearg flinched. But, just as he had done when they first met, Dearg held his ground. This time Gawain was not bluffing.

"I'm not afraid to fi-" Dearg's words were cut short by a swift punch to the stomach, right below the ribs. All of the air had been forced out of his lungs and he doubled over in pain, collapsing to the floor of the tent. Gawain stepped over him.

Dearg weakly tried to grab Gawain as he left, but Gawain escaped his grasp. "Goodbye, Sergeant." Gawain left the tent, closing the flap behind him.


	7. Observations

Confusion engulfed the camp. First came the sound of an engine revving, followed by shouting. An alarm was raised, and soon every Grunwald soldier was out of their tents. Some held their weapons aloft, believing they were under attack, others were activating the camps searchlights and sweeping the area. By the time they realized what was really going on, Gawain was miles away.

Grunwald Security's scout bikes were fast. Very fast. Frighteningly fast. Gawain had never been a fan of motorcycles. The lack of cover and stability always made him uncomfortable. But when it came to speed and maneuverability in the wilderness, he had no other options other than an airship. Ikebana did have one for emergencies, but stealing it would have been a great deal more difficult, and if they truly needed to evacuate the town it would be the only option. Gawain wasn't about the rob the town of that.

After half an hour of hard riding, Gawain looked over his shoulder, searching for any signs of pursuit. There were none. He slowed down a little to a more manageable speed and looked forward. With no nearby settlements, the road was pitch black in the dead of night. The headlight of the bike was the only thing providing visibility. Gawain's night vision was borderline non-existent, but his nose was able to suss out the rode based on the lack of the distinct scent of grass. He pulled up the compass feature on his scroll, making sure he was going the right direction. Based on the map he had read, he'd need to stay on the road for at least another hour, before going off-road to head northwest. Gawain wasn't thrilled about having an hour alone with his thoughts.

 _I was getting too close_ he thought. _Too close with Dearg, too close with Cutlass, too close with the First Spear._ The fact that Dearg knew his identity should have been enough for him to call off the mission entirely. Gawain had been compromised then and there, but he chose to press on anyway. He should have known. He should have known after that first patrol in the forest. Eight men. He had lost eight men. Eight men he did not even know, and he _still_ cared. They were complete strangers, and their loss had still wounded him. What would happen if he lost more? What if was Dearg the next time? Or Meadows? Or Braun? Would he sink back into despair like he did after Beacon?

Gawain shook his head. _No,_ he said to himself, _that's why I'm leaving now_. _I will not become that man again. Mordred rescued me from him once, but he will not do it a second time. If I become that miserable fool again, there will be no saving me._

In the winter months following Beacon's fall, Gawain was a pitiable shell of his former self. He didn't eat. He barely slept. His body, once that of a trained warrior in the spring of his youth, began to wither. The only thing that kept him alive was the desire for revenge. Revenge against the White Fang. He wanted to hurt those who had hurt him, to bring destruction to those who had destroyed his home and family. But even that was out of his grasp.

Gawain had joined Grunwald Security, believing that his father would sympathize with his goals. But he was rebuffed.

"We have no contracts regarding the White Fang," his father had said, not even making eye contact with Gawain, "and if we did, I'd send only those who were qualified. I would not send an inexperienced and emotionally unstable boy who has grown lax in his training as of late."

Gareth Grunwald was a cold man. Gawain couldn't remember him smiling, outside of the forced ones he made at conferences and corporate luncheons. He didn't so much run Grunwald Security as much as govern it, like the lords of old. The company was his army, and clients were subjects under his protection. It reinforced the ideal of knightly honor that helped the company secure its reputation among the kingdoms' governments. But while most of the world saw Gareth as a lordly commander, worthy of respect and trust, Gawain only saw a bitter tyrant. Gareth didn't care about his soldiers, his clients, or even his family. He just wanted power, plain and simple.

Gawain wanted so badly to attack him then and there. He wanted to leap upon his father and tear him apart, ending his facade once and for all. It would've been suicide. Gawain's father was a huntsman, and one of the strongest in Atlas if not the world. He could, and would, crush Gawain without a second thought, especially as Gawain was now. And Gareth was correct in some respects. The Grunwalds do not believe in nepotism. Gawain being the CEO's son did not entitle him to anything. To Gareth, Gawain just be another soldier. Common soldiers do not make demands of their commanders.

Gawain had left that day, defeated. He couldn't save his friends, and with his father's dismissal, he couldn't avenge them either. Powerless, helpless, and useless. He felt trapped, like he had been dropped into a cage without food, water, or light. All that was left was to sit in the dark and waste away.

It was then that Mordred had extended his hand.

"I make it my profession to know what it is that drives men." He had said. "And, in some cases, I can make the arrangements for them to get what they want, so long as it benefits me."

Gawain was hesitant at first. He knew of Mordred, of the Special Tasks Group, and of Vernichtung well before he even entered Beacon Academy. Snakes they had been called. Cutthroats. Spooks. And that was just by those within Grunwald Security. To the rest of the world their actions were considered borderline illegal, but never provably criminal. It was a testament to how well Mordred handled information. Every shred of common sense told Gawain then that Mordred could not be trusted. That he was manipulating Gawain for some unknown purpose. But then Gawain thought of his friends. His team. His home. All the things he had to live for. All gone. The only thing left was vengeance. To inflict pain. To destroy. To kill. And Mordred could give that to him.

It took two months for Gawain to return to fighting shape. The training was grueling, it had to be. While Gawain had wallowed in depression and self-pity, his muscles and stamina deteriorated. But with his renewed sense of purpose and the hope of attaining his goal restored, Gawain thrived in the crucible Mordred had prepared for him. In the end, he had managed to surpass his old strength. To an outsider it appeared to be a miraculous recovery, but to Gawain it was nothing new. In the past, whenever he had been confronted by a crushing defeat, he had always managed to rise up and overcome his previous limits. He had lost his share of duels at Beacon, but he never lost to the same person twice. There was a brief period where he had believed it was somehow related to his semblance, but never dwelled on it much more than that. All he needed to know was that every time he got knocked down, he had come back stronger for it. And he had gotten knocked down quite hard at the Fall of Beacon.

But Mordred had already deduced that being combat-ready was a non-issue for Gawain. It was the other aspects of intelligence work he would need to work on: infiltration, deception, and manipulation.

As Gawain's bike bounced and bumped down the road, he recalled his first "mission" with Mordred, after he had completed his physical training.

...

Mordred had instructed him to dress in plain clothes. There was to be no indication or affiliation with G-Sec. Furthermore, Gawain was forbade from attempting to hide his wolf ears. Aside from the time and location where they were to meet (a water fountain near Atlas' city square at noon), Gawain had received no other instructions. Gawain made sure to arrive early. Punctuality was a virtue that had been hammered into him by his many tutors in his youth. Mordred, on the other hand, had arrived fifteen minutes late.

Gawain almost didn't recognize him. He walked with a cane, his posture hunched. He wore a plain brown coat with brown slacks, and a black shirt. The clothing was worn and fraying, with most of the colors having faded. His expression was meek and tired, possibly even a little fearful. He looked nothing like the calm, collected, intelligent officer that had recruited Gawain. He shuffled up to the bench where Gawain was sitting, tapping the seat next to him with the cane.

"Mind if a grab a seat there, lad?" Mordred said, sounding a bit out of breath. "I just need a place to rest, I won't be long. It's these old joints, y'see."

"Sure..." Gawain responded, with some small degree of hesitation.

Mordred sat, letting out a long sigh of relief. But after a moment, his expression changed. His eyes focused, his jaw set, and his back straightened.

"I see you've already made your first mistake." Mordred said, his voice firm with the authority of an officer.

"What?"

Mordred tapped the cane on Gawain's knee, making him flinch. "Please don't tell me you _just_ bought those."

"N-no, I…" Gawain looked down at his clothes, comparing them to Mordred's. While they were normal clothes, the cloth itself was clean and free of wrinkles. He had intentionally chosen drab colors as to not stand out, a dark green shirt and black pants. But the colors themselves were still crisp, showing no signs of being bleached by the sun or repeated washings.

"You look like a runway model for the new 'Perfectly Average Young Adult' collection." Mordred sighed. "Nothing says 'abnormal' like telegraphed normalcy."

Gawain's face flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"What? You won't wear new clothes again? Relax, soldier. It's a minor mistake, one best made now when it doesn't matter. And it has the added benefit of being relevant to today's lesson."

"Lesson? I thought this was a mission."

"It's both, in a way. The mission is to teach you a lesson. To do that, we're going to be observing the citizens of Atlas as they pass through the square, keeping an eye out for anything interesting."

Gawain looked at Mordred incredulously. "So we're... _people-watching_?"

Mordred cracked a smile. "Very perceptive. It's always been something of a hobby of mine. I didn't have much growing up, so I had to learn new ways to entertain myself. For instance," Mordred nudged his cane in a direction, "what can you tell me about that fellow over there? The one talking on his scroll."

Gawain looked to where Mordred had pointed and saw a middle-aged man pressing his scroll to his ear. He was short, but thin, with close cut black hair and glasses. He wasn't so much talking into the scroll as listening intently, providing short answers to whoever was on the other end. Gawain sniffed in that direction as well.

"He's sweating." Gawain said. Even though it was early spring, Atlas was still quite cold. "He's nervous. He's doing a lot of listening and not a lot of talking. Whoever he's talking too has some kind of authority over him. Possibly his superior." Gawain squinted, spotting something shiny on the man's hand. "Maybe his wife."

"Very good. You've made observations without too many assumptions and kept yourself open to other possibilities. Now what about that young woman over there?"

Gawain looked to the woman, watched her closely, and took in her scent for good measure.

"She's wearing perfume." Gawain wrinkled his nose. "A _lot_ of perfume. Not the expensive kind either. She's wearing nice clothes, not new like mine, but she's taken care of them. A favorite outfit, maybe? She's wearing heels, and she doesn't seem to have the poise of a huntress, so she's probably not expecting to do too much walking. She might be on a date, but whoever she's with isn't here. That might explain why she looks frustrated."

"Interesting." Mordred tapped his cane. "And that woman over there."

A tan-skinned, older faunus woman was struggling with several bags. By the smell, they were filled with groceries. She had an obvious set of ears on her head, they were rounded, likely a bear of some kind.

"She just got done grocery shopping." Gawain said. "She's in a hurry. It's noon, but it's not a school day. She might be a mother, trying to get home so she can relieve the sitter and get a head start on dinner. She doesn't have a ring, so she might be a single parent. She-" Gawain stopped himself as she saw a gruff looking man deliberately jab his shoulder into the woman, knocking one of the bags out of her hands.

"Watch where you're going, fur-bag." He said, loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear.

Gawain clenched his teeth, and his fists, but felt Mordred's cane pressing against his leg. A warning not to do anything.

The faunus woman apologized and immediately began putting the groceries back into the bag, trying keep out of the way of the other pedestrians as much as possible.

"She's used to mistreatment." Gawain concluded.

"Such is life for a faunus in Atlas. Now, what can you tell me about our friend over there, the one who bumped into her?"

"He's an arrogant, self-serving reprobate. The kind of person who gets smug satisfaction from beating down those who can't or won't fight back. The kind of person who doesn't realize how easily his bones can be broken."

Mordred sighed. "I was wondering how long it would take for that to return. And here I thought the Fall of Beacon might've beaten it out of you."

Gawain blinked, bringing his his focus away from the man and back to Mordred. "For what to return?"

"That Grunwald sense of righteous indignation. You all have it, to varying degrees. Whenever someone you believe deserves respect is mistreated, it lights a fire in you like nothing else. Though I'll admit that your idea of who deserves respect is a great deal wider than your relatives'."

Gawain snorted. "Everyone deserves at least some respect. It's basic decency, nothing more."

"Maybe that's what _you_ believe, but look around." Mordred gestured with his cane to the entire square. "No one else seems to think that the faunus woman deserves respect. Or if they did, they're not doing anything to act on it. What does that tell you?"

Gawain crossed his arms. "They're cowards. Either that or they sympathize with that piece of garbage that shoved her, which makes them worse."

Mordred leaned forward, hunching onto his cane. "Sweeping generalizations like that leave little room for nuance. Let's narrow the focus again."

And so it went, Mordred indicating individuals in the crowd, and Gawain making his observations and speculations. They did this for about an hour, until the midday foot traffic began to slow down. Gawain had already grown bored, and was thankful that the number of subjects had begun to dwindle.

Mordred tapped his cane on the ground. "That's enough for today. I believe this was a productive mission."

Gawain sighed in relief. He thought the STG was all about infiltration and espionage, not gawking at strangers.

"I wonder, why do you think I asked you to come in plain clothes?" Mordred asked.

"I assume so that we wouldn't be recognized."

"That's one reason, but do you know why I specified that you specifically not hide your faunus features?"

Gawain looked confused. He assumed it was the same reason as the first. Most people didn't know Gawain Grunwald was a faunus. He had taken a great deal of time and effort to keep that facade up. Mordred continued.

"Now it is time for the second part of the lesson. We've been observing strangers from a distance, and using those observations to draw conclusions. Now I want you to pay attention to how strangers observe _us_ for a bit. Tell me what you see."

Gawain focused on the pedestrians closest to them. Most of them seemed to ignore the two faunus on the bench. He noticed a few take some extra steps to keep their distance from the pair. Nearly all of them avoided eye contact with him, but those that didn't either quickly averted their eyes or scowled in disgust.

"They don't like us." Gawain said. "They're doing their best to pretend we're not here. They don't like that I'm looking at them."

"Ah yes. And there is the crux of the lesson."

Gawain's wolf ears turned curiously toward Mordred. "How so?"

"Every person has two selves that they must be cognizant of. The first is the internal self. This is your own idealized image of yourself, how _you_ see you. The second is the external self, this is the image you project into the world. You likely think of yourself as Gawain Grunwald: a proud warrior of a noble lineage. You cultivated that image your entire life and tried to keep your internal and external selves in sync. That is what most people try to do. It's easier that way. Though sometimes there is a discontinuity between who people think they are and what they project into the world. Like that rude man who bumped into the faunus woman earlier. I highly doubt that he considers himself a...what did you call him? A reprobate?" Mordred laughed. "I doubt he even knows what that word means.

"But what I'm trying to get at is that I told you to dress plainly and wear your wolf ears openly. And yet, I still imagine you think of yourself as Gawain the Warrior."

Gawain looked at his hands. "Of course I do. Changing my appearance doesn't change who I am."

Mordred tapped his cane to the ground again. "Exactly. Which is why we can use our external selves as a tool. By controlling the image we project to the world, we can manipulate how the world reacts and behaves. That is what it means to be a spy. The people we observed today, they didn't put a lot of thought into the image they were projecting. Odds are they were simply trying to project their internal selves. It made them easier for us to read. We, on the other hand, were projecting the image of two typical faunus lounging about in the city square. Notice how most of the humans simply avoided or ignored us? They don't want to associate with faunus, so they leave us alone as long as we don't cause trouble. That, in and of itself, is useful. They have no idea how dangerous we truly are."

Gawain frowned. Deception had never been his strong suit. He had always considered lying and manipulation to run counter to the knightly virtues he had aspired to when he was growing up. But knightly virtues couldn't save Beacon, and they weren't going to get him the vengeance he wanted. Perhaps it _was_ time for a change in tactics.

"It's easier to cultivate a new image when you lack personal attachments." Mordred said, his voice becoming much more serious. "You always have to be able to let go of a particular cover at a moment's notice. It's more difficult for some than it is for others. That is why you must keep your internal and external selves as separate as possible when on a mission. Do not let one corrupt the other. That's why I stopped you from intervening earlier."

"I wasn't going to-"

"Yes. You were. I've spent a great deal of time studying you and your past. I do it for every recruit. If you truly want to be a member of the STG, if you _truly_ want revenge on the White Fang, then you need to control yourself. Both the internal and external you."

Mordred tapped his cane one last time and stood up. "Well, I believe it's time we head back. As great as they are for appearing unassuming, I do so _despise_ these clothes."

...

A fallen branch snapped under the wheels of Gawain's bike, jarring him from the memories. _That's_ _where I went wrong_ , he thought to himself, _I couldn't keep them separate._ Gawain Grunwald, the Warrior and Tristan Evergreen, the Soldier bled into each other. It had only been a few weeks, and he was already slipping back into who he used to be. _No, I have no right to call myself 'Warrior'. I'm an assassin now._

Or was that just another self? Was the Warrior truly dead, supplanted by the Assassin? Or was the Assassin as much of a mask as the Soldier? Which one is the real him? Gawain shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

 _Control yourself. Focus on the mission, the mission is what matters._ He needed to find this Grimm den, or base, or staging area. If it existed at all. Gods, what if this was all a wild goose chase? What if he had just broken his cover and abandoned Timber Company for nothing? He floored Dearg with a single punch, and all he was trying to do was help. What if Gawain had put too much faith in his own instincts? Or rather, what if he had put too much faith in his paranoia? What if he got to the forest and there were no Grimm? Better yet, what if he _was_ right? What would be his plan if he _did_ find a horde? Why hadn't he thought of this before taking off? Too reckless! Too impulsive! He should've…

 _Stop it_ , he thought, _now's not the time to second-guess yourself. I've chosen my course, now it's time to follow it. Focus on the mission: one step at a time._

He tightened his grip on the bike's throttle and accelerated.


	8. Forest Flight

Gawain slowed to a stop as he reached his destination at the edge of the forest. As dawn began to break, he could see that the treeline stretching into the distance. The map had said that the forest was fifteen miles north to south, and another twenty miles across its center. But numbers on a map seldom do justice to the size of a place. Did he really think he could search the whole thing by himself?

 _I must have lost my mind_ he thought. The motorcycle he stole could barely handle offroad and would be borderline useless in a forest this dense. Not to mention all the noise it would make. He was going to have to search the forest on foot.

 _I'll walk for a few miles, see if I catch any scents, and then turn back_ Gawain told himself. In the back of his mind, he knew Dearg was right. Gawain was jumping the gun, letting his paranoia drive him. He had assaulted a subordinate, stolen company equipment, and probably burned his cover all over a hunch. _It's stupid_ , he thought, _I'm being stupid._ And yet, he couldn't quell the other voice in his head, the one whispering _but what if I'm right?_

The horrific visions of Beacon's fall that flashed through his mind were his answer. They pressed him to move forward, past the treeline and into the forest.

The going was slow at first. Gawain was doing his best to reduce his sound profile, avoiding fallen branches and patches of leaves. It was still summer, so thankfully the ground was relatively bare. Gawain smelled the air, attempting to catch any hint of the telltale scent of Grimm. _Not_ _that it matters_ , he thought, _the Rakshasas can hide their scents_. He shook his head. Avoiding negative thoughts and emotions was also important to remaining undetected. He focused on his training, specifically the things he learned from his old teammates.

His partner at Beacon, Lonan Speedwell, had taught him all he knew about tracking. The young man was the son of Vacuan ranchers, and had been practically raised on horseback. In Vacuo's harsh ecosystem, hunting was a dangerous practice that had very little room for error. Being able to accurately track prey in a shifting landscape was paramount. As such, Lonan became the team's reconnaissance and infiltration expert. During their missions together, he would attempt to teach the rest of the team the finer points of scouting an area. It wasn't just about tracks, broken twigs, and disturbed earth. To be a truly competent tracker, one had to fully understand the behavior of their prey. The tracker had to know how his target acted when they were hunting, when they were frightened, and when they felt they were safe. Then they would have to know the signs of that kind of behavior, that way the tracker could figure out his prey's disposition and condition. From there they can extrapolate what the prey's next move would be.

The practice required a great deal of knowledge not only of the wilderness, but also psychology. Lonan was surprisingly adept at both, being something of a social butterfly. He was always amicable with everyone, even his enemies. He's dead now.

 _Don't dwell on it_ Gawain reminded himself, _remember the lessons_.

Look for the signs. The signs of things moving through the forest. Remember how Grimm behave, and how it is different from animals. And remember the scent. The advantage Gawain had over most trackers: the nose of a wolf faunus. Even if his prey hid the physical signs of their passing he could still find their scent. Lonan had remarked that it was a useful tool, but that Gawain should use it in conjunction with the other lessons to become a good tracker.

But, all things considered, the forest was relatively normal. In the first few miles of Gawain's trek, there were abundant signs of wildlife, both prey and predators large and small. Based on how far out it was from civilization, it was highly unlikely the forest had many human visitors. Which would mean that the Grimm would likely be just as scarce. Active Grimm, anyway. It wasn't uncommon for Grimm to go dormant when there weren't any people around. Often they would get buried underneath the earth by the elements, waiting for some hapless passerby to stumble onto them. And since Grimm get larger and stronger with age, regardless of whether or not they're actively attacking humans, discovering such a Grimm is usually cause for alarm. Gawain pondered the irony of looking for a Grimm nest only to discover a gigantic dormant Grimm instead. And as he pondered, he picked up the scent.

Burning metal and flesh mixed together. Grimm were nearby. Unfortunately, even though Gawain can smell Grimm, he could not differentiate between them. One odd thing about them is that they all smell the same, no matter what species they are. It could be a small Beowolf, or one of the Rakshasas. Whatever Grimm it was, it was north of him, and it wasn't far.

Gawain proceeded stealthily toward the source of the scent, no easy feat for someone his size. As he got closer, he could tell that the Grimm was moving, albeit slowly. Grimm tend to randomly prowl about when there aren't any humans nearby. In the distance, he could hear rustling leaves and the snapping of twigs. Soon he would be close enough to get a visual.

Gawain stopped short of a clearing in the trees, hiding behind the trunk of an old tree. He could make out the familiar shapes of several Beowolves pacing slowly through the clearing.

 _Just a pack of Beowolves_ he thought _the most common kind of Grimm. Nothing to worry about._ He pondered killing them. He was a huntsman, afterall. A dozen or so dead Beowolves may not make a difference in the grand scheme of things, but they would never get a chance to hurt anyone. Additionally, it might make him feel better. As he readied his weapons, he froze.

One of the trees at the edge of the clearing began to twist and turn as the Beowolves approached. As its branches unraveled it took the form of a Rakshasa, one just as big as the one Gawain had slain. Gawain's heart turned into a jackhammer as he quickly ducked back behind his tree. The Rakshasas _were_ here.

Calm. He needed to stay calm. He had managed to keep his approach relatively silent, but it would all be for nothing if the Grimm picked up on his anxiety. Gather information, focus on being curious instead of afraid. These were the lessons drilled into him at Beacon. He peaked around the tree again.

The Rakshasa looked over the Beowolf pack. A growl rumbled in its throat. The Beowolves simply looked up to the Rakshasa and tilted their heads quizzically. The Rakshasa sniffed and loosed a low bellow. It turned around and began stalking into the forest, with the Beowolves following close behind.

 _Well that was...odd._ Gawain had heard of Grimm having Alphas before, older Grimm that act in a leadership position for their lesser brethren. They are typically older, stronger variants of the same species. Did this Rakshasa just _adopt_ the Beowolf pack? They seemed to be waiting on it so they could follow its lead.

Then Mordred's words came back to him. The Grimm behaving tactically. This wasn't adoption. It was _recruitment._ The Rakshasas are out here corralling any Grimm they find and bringing them into the fold. Marshaling them.

 _I guess I can't leave now_ , Gawain thought, _I need to find out where they're going._ He waited until the Grimm were out of sight, and began following them by smell. The Rakshasa could hide its scent, but the Beowolves could not. The group was heading further westward, deeper into the forest. Gawain kept his distance, far enough back so that he couldn't see them through the thick of the trees, but close enough that he could still track them.

The Grimm were keeping a slow pace, after an hour of walking Gawain had figured they had only gone a few more miles towards the forest's center. He kept an eye on every tree he passed, praying that there wasn't another Rakshasa waiting. Suddenly, the scent of the Grimm grew stronger. Gawain stopped and crouched, fearing he had let himself get too close to them. And yet, he couldn't see them through the thick of the woods, and in the distance he could still hear the telltale sounds of movement. The Grimm had not stopped.

Gawain slowly resumed tailing them, but the scent continued to grow thicker. He looked all around, and saw nothing but trees. Still, the smell of Grimm was filling the air. As Gawain continued forward, he realized that the smell was no longer just in front of him. It was all around him. He stopped, and listened with both pairs of ears. There was rustling and creaking all over the place. The once quiet forest had suddenly come alive.

A chill ran down Gawain's spine. Every instinct told him what this was. A Grimm horde. A big one. The creatures were out of sight, but he could _feel_ them. But feeling was not enough. He had to _know._

Gawain took a deep breath, drawing one of his weapons from it's holster and readying it. He needed to _see_ this horde. See it and somehow startle it into moving early. How he would do such a thing, he was not quite sure. He moved further towards the heart of the Grimm scent. He could not longer tell if the group he was tailing was still moving or not. It had merged with the greater presence of the horde. But then, between the trees about a hundred yards ahead of him, Gawain made out dark shapes moving about. Hundreds of them. This was it, the edge of their...camp? Their formation? Their base? Gawain didn't know what to make of it. He kept himself low to the ground, and quietly scrambled to a nearby tree for cover.

His instincts told him this was it. His theory was correct. The Grimm were gathering in this forest. But how many? What kind of Grimm? And how many Rakshasa were among them? If Gawain had risked this much to make it this far, he needed to answer these questions. Answer them, and then spook the Grimm into early action.

Gawain eyed the tree he was hiding behind. It was thick, and more importantly, tall. If he could climb to the top, he might be able to survey the area and get a rough estimate of the Grimm forces. He holstered his weapon and grabbed the closest branch. The going was slow, Gawain was athletic but not exactly the best climber. Additionally, he wanted to make as little noise during his ascent as possible. He tested each branch before pulling himself onto it, making sure it could hold his weight. He figured the tree was at least fifty feet tall, tall enough to poke through the forest canopy.

When Gawain reached reached the top, he had to stop himself from gasping. The forest floor was carpeted with Grimm, stretching beyond his sight into the forest. They were shuffling to and fro, a forming a shifting sea of black, red, and white. They were so dense that he could see the tops of trees sway as some of the larger ones brushed by them.

There were several species of all shapes and sizes. Beowolves made up the highest percentage that he could see, but Gawain could make out a great number of simian Beringals and bear-like Ursi. He also noticed Manticores, winged lion-like monsters, peppered throughout the crowd. But besides the Manticores, Gawain noticed no other flying-type Grimm.

 _Probably to avoid drawing attention from airships,_ Gawain thought. _Good, one less thing to worry about._

Gawain glanced down and saw movement heading further in toward the center of the horde. The Rakshasa and its Beowolf pack. The sea of Grimm parted to let them through, in what struck Gawain as uncharacteristically coordinated. The group faded into the trees, becoming a part of the black mass. But the eeriest part wasn't the sheer number of Grimm, but the lack of noise. If there were this many people packed this close together, there would no doubt be a lot of noise. Chatter, arguments, crying, laughing; the sounds of people. But not these Grimm. They made no noise besides the occasional huff or stamping of feet as they moved. An army that didn't need to eat, sleep, or stay motivated. They merely existed as cogs in a dark and deadly machine, waiting to be put to use. Gawain found the realization disturbing, and quickly shifted focus to trying to learn more about the horde before his anxiety took over.

Gawain cursed silently. With so many trees in the way there was no way to get an estimation of the size of their forces, other than that there were a lot of them. It was hard to prepare a defense if you didn't know how many of the enemy there were. Perhaps if he walked along the perimeter of the horde, he might be able to better estimate-

One of the branches he had been standing on suddenly snapped. Gawain managed to catch himself before he fell, but the broken branch tumbled to the ground below.

"Damn it!" Gawain reflexively muttered below his breath. He looked back to the edge of the Grimm horde and saw black shapes begin to split off from the main mass. They were heading straight for him.

Gawain didn't have much time to think. He leapt from his position in the tree, bringing up his aura to full as he fell. At Beacon, Gawain's typical landing strategy was usually to just hit the ground, letting his aura take the impact. He hit the forest floor feet first, his boots sinking slightly into the ground. Even with his substantial aura, the landing was still jarring. It took him a second to regain his senses, and as he did he glanced over his shoulder to see a pack of Beowolves closing on him. But they were few, just below a dozen; scouts investigating the sound.

Perhaps this could work in Gawain's favor. He drew both of his weapons, whipping them into their sword modes. He leapt from behind his tree and rushed the oncoming Beowolves.

With a deft spin he whirled his blades in vicious arcs. The two closest Beowolves fell, headless. The sudden deaths of their comrades gave the rest of the pack pause, and Gawain seized upon their hesitation. Gawain lashed his swords through the air once, twice, thrice, hewing through a Beowolf with each swing. In the span of a few seconds, the pack found roughly half of its number suddenly on the ground, disintegrating into black smoke. The remaining six attempted to surround Gawain, but Gawain pressed the offensive. He dove forward, plunging both blades into the chest of the Beowolf in front of him. With a roar he wrenched the blades in opposite directions, exploding from the beast's sides and ripping it in half. He brought his left sword about and clove into the head of a lunging Beowolf and drove the tip of his right sword into the throat of another. With a spin he slung the corpses of the Beowolves at their remaining packmates. The bodies collided with a loud crack, knocking the living Beowolves off their fight while the dead tumbled to the ground and evaporated.

He converted his left sword into its rifle form and fired a single shot straight into the head of one of the remaining Beowolves, leaving one alive. The last one, seemingly panicked, loosed a long and loud howl. Gawain let the howl roll for a few seconds before firing another shot, cutting it short.

The ground began to shake beneath his feet, and he heard a rumbling behind him. Various roars, bellows, and shrieks echoed through the forest. They were coming for him.

Gawain holstered his weapons and took off in a sprint back the way he came. The scent of Grimm was strong behind him. Shadows passed overhead, the Manticores had taken flight. Gawain activated his semblance, and felt the energy of his aura filter into his muscles. He felt lighter, and his stride grew longer. He bolted through the forest at an inhuman pace. For some reason, his mind imagined a wolf running at top speed.

Trees flew past him in a blur, his enhanced sense of balance and heightened sight, hearing, and smell kept him from tripping. The rumbling of the Grimm horde began to fade ever so slightly, as if they were losing ground. He leapt over fallen trees and shallow creeks with unearthly grace. Several times his aura threatened to flicker out under the strain. Every time, Gawain pictured the Grimm horde behind him. He pictured them rending his flesh. But what really kept his aura from breaking was the vision of what would come after. The horde descending upon Ikebana, ripping through his men and tearing the unprepared civilians apart.

Before this day, the longest Gawain had ever kept his semblance burning was for a few scant minutes.

But today it lasted for twelve.

As the last of his aura fizzled out for good, Gawain found himself at the edge of the forest, out of breath and on the brink of collapsing.

Fortunately, the insane sprint had allowed him to gain a significant amount of ground on the Grimm, but that victory was short lived. Gawain could not see the motorcycle that had brought him here. He looked north and south along the treeline, and saw nothing. He tried to take off in a run again, but his body refused. His wolf ears picked up the low rumble of the horde pursuing. They had not given up, and they were getting closer.

Gawain hobbled away from the forest's edge, his legs feeling like wet noodles. He knew it was hopeless, Ikebana was over a hundred miles away. Even with the motorcycle, it would take him hours to get back to base. Regardless, he refused to give up, and he kept moving.

A roar sounded above his head. He managed to hit the ground as a Manticore came swooping down, its claws just barely missing him. Gawain drew one of his weapons and fired several shots. Even exhausted to the point of feinting, Gawain managed to land all three. However, the Manticore's bulk was too great to be hampered by such minor wounds. It wheeled in the sky to come around for a second swoop.

Gawain drew and readied his other weapon, converting them both into their sword forms. He may be without aura, but he was not going to go down without a fight. The Manticore bore down on him, mouth open and claws outstretched. Gawain roared defiantly and prepared to leap to meet it head on...only for an explosion to erupt from the monster's side and send it careening to the ground just off of Gawain's left.

Gawain stared blankly at the fallen Manticore. The explosion and subsequent crash landing had been enough to kill it, as it was dissipating into black mist. But what could have-

"Hands on your head, uh, sir!" Braun shouted from behind Gawain.

Gawain turned to see fireteam Cutlass standing in front of a Grunwald Security Armored Reconnaissance Vehicle a few dozen yards away. The ARV had a mounted grenade launcher manned by Blanche, with wisps of smoke coming from the barrel. Pavalon was behind the wheel while Meadows and Braun were on the ground, rifles fixed on Gawain.

"Braun? How? When did you-" Gawain stammered.

"Drop your weapons, hands on your head!" Braun repeated. "We're taking you in, sir."

Gawain weakly pointed one of his swords back to the forest. "Grimm," He barely got out, in between gasping breaths. "Coming."

"We can handle a few Grimm," Blanche said, wheeling the grenade launcher around. "Just get your ass in the car... _sir_."

Gawain tried to comply, but his legs quickly gave out.

"Oh, for gods' sake, will you two get him already!?" Blanche yelled.

Meadows and Braun slung their weapons and ran over to Gawain. Gawain did not drop his weapons, but he did holster them. The two soldiers each took one of his arms onto their shoulders to help him up.

"We have to get back!" Gawain growled with as much urgency as he could muster. "They're coming!"

"I told you we can handle a few-" Blanche cut herself off.

The trees of the forest began to shake violently as a swarm of Manticores erupted from the canopy. At the same time, a flood of Beowolves, Ursi, and Beringals charged out of the forest in a rabid tidal wave of black and red.

"Pavalon, haul ass!" Blanche yelled as she fired her weapon into the oncoming horde.

"Hurry, get in now!" Pavalon yelled, throwing the vehicle in reverse and backing it up to the trio. Braun and Meadows hastily hauled Gawain into the back of the ARV and pulled themselves inside, locking the rear doors behind them.

"Go! Go! Go!" Braun shouted in panic.

Pavalon slammed his foot on the accelerator and the heavy vehicle burst forward. Fireballs spat by the Manticores began to land on either side, Pavalon attempted to weave as he drove through the open field. Blanche continued to fire her weapon as they fled.

"Why the hell are there so many!?" Braun cried.

"Grimm horde." Gawain gasped. "They've been gathering for an attack."

"You knew they were out here?"

"I had a theory. It's why I took off."

"You mean why you knocked out Dearg and stole company property?" Meadows retorted, letting a fair degree of anger tinge her words.

Gawain nodded. "Sorry...needed to know."

"We would've come with you, y'know." Braun said. Meadows jabbed him with an elbow. "What? It's true!"

"How did you guys find me?"

"That motorcycle has a tracker in it, idiot!" Pavalon said from the front. "Once we got in range we found it. We started looking up and down the treeline to see if you'd pop out somewhere. And you're lucky we found you when we did."

"How did you know I went to the forest?"

"How do you _think_?"

Dearg. Gawain felt an immense pang of guilt. Though the guilt was interrupted by the violent shaking of nearby fireballs immolating the ground.

"Dammit, Blanche, get those things off of us!" Pavalon yelled.

"What do you think I've been doing!?" Blanche shot back. "There's too many to shoot! Drive faster!"

Gawain lurched as Pavalon executed evasive maneuvers to keep their vehicle from bursting into flames. As he recovered, a thought occurred to him.

"Were you the only ones who came to find me?" Gawain asked.

"Why does that matter?" Meadows answered.

"Were you the only ones?" Gawain pressed, trying to sound as intimidating as he could while in his weakened state.

"Otachi and Falchion." Braun said. "Falchion went south and Otachi stayed with the motorcycle in case you came back to it."

"Well, radio them and tell them to get back to Ikebana! Tell them that a Grimm horde is coming! We need to prepare!"

"We _need_ to get the hell out of here before we're covered in-" Blanche trailed off.

"Blanche?" Braun called, "What's wrong, what's happening?"

"They...stopped."

"What?" Gawain asked, crawling to the back of the vehicle. He opened one of the rear doors and let it swing wide.

The Manticores had indeed ceased their pursuit, and had wheeled around, heading back towards the forest. At the treeline, Gawain could see even more Grimm spilling out of the forest, stretching out along the field in all directions.

"Why did they stop?" Blanche asked.

"They don't want to get ahead of the main force." Gawain answered. "The Manticores are air support. They can't be wasted chasing a single scouting vehicle. They'll be needed for the main attack."

"Main...attack?" Braun asked hesitantly.

Gawain nodded. "We need to get back to Ikebana, _now._ "


	9. Consequences

Braun and Meadows ushered a handcuffed Gawain into Captain Corcra's tent. Outside, the outpost was swarming with Grunwald soldiers frantically loading supplies onto vehicles to move them into the safety of Ikebana's walls. In an odd change of pace, Corcra looked a bit more put together than Gawain had ever seen him before. It seemed that his anger had brought him a fair amount of focus. The two privates escorting Gawain sat in him in a chair in front of Corcra's desk and quickly backed out of the tent's entrance.

"I spent a fair amount of my morning writing these." Corcra said, dropping a stack of papers onto his desk. They were demerits.

"Insubordination. Theft. Dereliction of duty. And based on what I've heard, we can add 'Needless Endangerment of Fellow Soldiers' to the list as well."

"We don't have time for this." Gawain said, looking the captain in the eye.

"Oh I know. That Grimm horde you so deftly riled up is on it's way. Heading straight here, in fact. We've sent fireteams to harry them, perhaps even get them to change their course, but they refuse to deviate. At their current pace, they'll be here by nightfall. But according to sergeant Dearg, that's exactly what you were hoping for, wasn't it?"

Gawain swallowed. Technically, his plan has worked. It just so happened that it worked a little too well.

"It doesn't make any sense!" Corcra spat. "No Grimm have ever tracked a target this far and this long. They should've broken off hours ago. And while we did bring the civilians within the walls for safety, we haven't told them about the Grimm horde yet, so their negative emotions shouldn't be drawing them." Corcra gave Gawain a pointed look. "Unless there's something else driving these Grimm towards us."

Gawain sighed. "I assume the sergeant told you my theory?"

"He did."

"And?"

"Alpha Grimm are not unknown to us, but I've never heard of one commanding a horde this large in all my years as a soldier. I have no idea what kind of Grimm would be capable of such a thing. Though I understand you seem to think it could be another Hunter-Killer."

"Hunter-killers. I saw another one in the forest. I saw it gather a pack of Beowolves and add them to the horde. And given the size of the horde, there's probably more of them."

"Oh really? And what is this based on?"

"The Rakshas- er, 'Hunter-killers' act like lieutenants. I think command of the horde is divided among them. They're the ones keeping the horde from dispersing. Each one controls a smaller group that makes up the horde."

"Oh, like our companies? So you're saying the Grimm are acting like a real army now? Something they have _never done before_?"

"I've told you that these Grimm have been acting strangely. Tactically, even. They were _deep_ in that forest. And they were just waiting there, gathering more and more. Not hunting, not wandering. _Gathering_. They were planning on going somewhere eventually."

"And you think that this horde was always destined to attack Ikebana, and they're only doing so now because the cat's out of the bag?"

"It would explain why they're coming straight here. Like you said, even with a horde of this size, if their prey eluded them long enough they would either disperse or return to their den. But these Grimm are marching directly towards Ikebana in spite of there being other humans actively antagonizing them and trying to get them to change course. They're attacking Ikebana because, for whatever the reason, that was their plan. And because I saw them and got away, they have no choice but to come at us _now_."

"Well, that certainly paints you in a more favorable light, doesn't it? Instead of condemning a town and its citizens to destruction, you're just softening the blow?"

That made Gawain wince. Regardless of whether or not his theory was correct, his actions had placed the people of Ikebana, whom he had been ordered to protect, in immediate danger. And his fellow soldiers where the ones who would have to put themselves in the line of fire. There was no ignoring that fact.

"My intent wasn't to flush the horde out" Gawain relented. "I just wanted to confirm their existence so we could lure them out and destroy them when _we_ were ready. Me getting their attention was purely accidental. That said, when I was discovered I attempted to make the best of a bad situation by startling them into early action. I accept full responsibility for my actions, sir."

"Good. I intend to seek the maximum punishment for inviting this hell onto our doorstep. But that will have to come _after_ we deal with this horde."

"After, sir?"

"Oh, don't believe for one second that you'll be spending this battle in a cell. You're not getting off that easy. Though I am loathe to admit it, your fighting skills are an asset we can't afford to squander right now." Corcra reached into his pocket and fished out a key. He threw it in Gawain's lap.

"What are we going to do?" Gawain asked, using the key to unlock his cuffs. He could tell that Corcra was barely keeping his rage from boiling over. Gawain noted it as a nice change from the normally nervous and disheveled man he had met before.

"First," Corcra answered, " _I'm_ going to send these demerits to headquarters together with a formal request for reinforcements. I've dispatched a scout on Ikebana's airship to the nearest relay tower with the message. We're gonna need everything: huntsmen, airships, and more soldiers to hold off this horde. Second, I'm ordering a mandatory evacuation for the town."

"There's no time!" Gawain interrupted. "The Grimm will descend on them as they're-"

"Interrupt me again, and I'll have you shot!" Corcra shouted. His voice carried a determined intent. "Do not mistake me for a fool! I am _not_ going to simply have the civilians walk out of the town. Part of the reinforcements I am requesting includes bringing the Orthrus here to help evacuate the populace."

The Orthrus was Grunwald Security's Mistral branch flagship. It was refurbished Atlesian heavy airship, one of three that the company owns. It was over seven hundred meters from bow to stern, larger than the more modern and streamlined airships that Atlas currently employed. It could easily carry a few thousand people. But there was one problem: Ikebana was a small town covering only four square kilometers. And the most open space, the town square, was only a few dozen meters wide.

"The Orthrus will have to land outside the town's walls." Corcra continued. "As the Grimm are coming from the west, we will have it land near the eastern gate. Once it lands, we'll have as many civilians as it can hold load up. Any civilians left over will be put on other vehicles and moved out to Shiragiku. Once that's done, we'll draw the Grimm away from the town and bombard them with an aerial assault until they're dust."

Gawain had to admit, it was a decent plan. The Orthrus was so rarely utilized that he had almost forgotten it existed. But it was an old, slow beast, not like the thrifty new Atlesian models. It would take time for it to reach them. There were other variables as well, like how many more vehicles would be needed to carry the people who could not fit on the Orthrus.

"Of course, all of this will be pointless if we let the Grimm surround the entire town" Corcra continued. "We'll need to concentrate them away from the eastern gate. The First Spear will be placed at the western gate to draw the Grimm into a kill zone and hold them off. The Second and Third spears will be broken up into fire teams and stationed evenly along the walls, less than half a kilometer apart. They'll make sure there aren't any Grimm sneaking around. I plan to have you join the First Spear as part of the rearguard. Consider it the first part of your punishment."

Gawain felt a sudden sense of relief wash over him. He shouldn't have. Any normal person would've been filled with dread at the prospect of having to face down a horde of Grimm head on. Death was a near certainty. He should be scared. He should be angry. He should feel sick to his stomach. But after all the guilt, paranoia, and grief he had lived with since Beacon fell, after all the nightmares and sleepless nights, after all the rage and violence...all it did was bring him relief.

Gawain's sudden relaxed posture made Corcra shift nervously. It must not have been the reaction he was expecting. But he continued.

"Mond will have command of the First spear as he is the ranking officer. For all intents and purposes, you'll be busted down to private for the foreseeable future. He has orders to put you down if you try to run away."

 _No need to worry about that_ Gawain thought. _I have no intention of running. I'm not afraid of dying. Not afraid…_

Gawain stiffened as a thought occurred to him.

"Captain, the civilians' fear and anxiety caused by an evacuation will draw the Grimm to the eastern gate. How are we supposed to keep them from circumventing our defense and heading straight there?"

Corcra sighed. "I've...thought about that. Believe me when I say it wasn't an easy decision."

"What are you going to do, captain?"

Corcra straightened himself. "We are going to corral the civilians near the western gate. Their obvious anxiety and fear will draw the Grimm to our kill zone and keep the Orthrus' landing zone clear. When reinforcements arrive, we'll move quickly and carefully to the Orthrus and accompanying vehicles. Timing will be crucial, the Grimm will need to be engaged up until we leave."

"How is the gate defense going to be set up? What kind of emplacements and ordinance do we have? When are we going to call-"

"That information," Corcra interrupted "Is for your lieutenant. You are to follow his orders or the orders of any superior officer until such a time as I can hand you off to the security forces at headquarters. Until then, do you job. Do it well enough, and maybe, just maybe, they'll show you some leniency. Report to your spear, private. You are dismissed."

Gawain nodded and stood. Meadows and Braun opened the tent and escorted him to the rest of the spear. All of the fireteams were in various states of packing. Ammunition, ordinance, food, water, and weapons were all being loaded onto trucks and ARVs to be hauled into the town. Everyone froze when Gawain arrived. Everyone except Mond, who strolled up to meet them.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Lieutenant 'Common Decency' Evergreen." Mond said, his words dripping with disdain. "Oh, wait, it's _private_ Evergreen now." Mond turned to the rest of the spear, making sweeping gestures with his arms. "That's right, everyone! The high-and-mighty Evergreen is now the bottom rung! Hopefully that means he won't get anymore of us killed!" Mond glanced back at Gawain, daggers in his eyes, and hissed "Oh, that's right. It's too late for that. Because you've already lured death straight to us, haven't you?"

Gawain stared Mond down. In spite of all the incendiary comments, Gawain couldn't bring himself to be angry at him. Mond was right, afterall. And, Gawain thought, perhaps everyone else needed to know that.

"Lieutenant Mond is absolutely correct." Gawain said, his voice flat. Mond, who had been winding up for what seemed to be a much longer rant, stopped short. Gawain continued.

"I haven't been a good lieutenant. In fact, I've been rather selfish. I put everyone in this town and in this company in danger because of my paranoia and impulsiveness. As I've already discussed with the captain, I intend to accept whatever punishment he deems fit. But before that, I will do everything in my capacity to protect every single person within Ikebana's walls. If that means my dying, then so be it. I cannot undo my mistakes, but I can take responsibility for them. I'll make sure that my death comes before anyone else in this Spear. With that said, lieutenant Malvora, I am yours to command. What are your orders?"

Mond was somewhat taken aback. He was a man used to independent action, not command. Though he quickly righted himself.

"Ahem," Mond coughed. "Load up those crates, soldier." Mond pointed to a stack of munitions crates. "We need all of our supplies inside the town's walls by nightfall. Hop to it."

Gawain obliged without complaint. Manual labor came easy to him thanks to his size and strength. Mond seemed to gain little satisfaction from Gawain's capitulation, but that was of little consequence. Gawain's mind was focused on the battle to come.

To Grunwald Security's credit, they were efficient when it came to moving from place to place. By the time they had packed up and moved their outpost inside of Ikebana, they still had several hours to spare until nightfall. It gave them time to make further preparations, such as planting Fire Dust mines outside of the western gate. In addition to that, they made sure to mount several grenade-launcher and machine-gun nests along the western wall. Their purpose would be to hold back any aerial Grimm that tried to fly over the town. In front of the wall the soldiers deployed "Atlesian Hedgehogs". Each one was comprised of three specialized heavy metal spikes welded together that would prove difficult for large Grimm to maneuver over. The wall itself, standing a respectable ten meters tall, would be enough to repel the smaller terrestrial Grimm while the soldiers armed with Dust rifles picked them apart. At least, that's how the battle would proceed if it went as planned.

But Corcra was not a novice. He knew that plans seldom survive contact with the enemy. And he had planned contingencies.

As the soldiers began moving into the town, Corcra broke the news of the horde invasion to the townsfolk. He neglected to mention Gawain's complicity, fearing it would only further demoralize them. Once the airship Corcra dispatched earlier returned, it immediately began shuttling civilians to Shiragiku, a dozen or so at a time. Because of the distance and the lack of space aboard the airship, it would take several days to evacuate the entire town. So the very young and very old were given top priority. Corcra's next task was even more difficult, because in addition to the evacuation and keeping the citizenry informed of the situation, Corcra was also looking for volunteers to help bolster the mercenaries' numbers. Grunwald soldiers were well-equipped, trained, and disciplined, more so than any other mercenary troop on Remnant. But that still left less than a hundred and fifty souls to defend a wall several kilometers long from a Grimm onslaught.

But Corcra, in spite of his appearances, was a surprisingly good orator. As Gawain saw this somewhat plump mercenary captain deliver his impassioned speech to these civilians, he realized that Corcra has been put in charge of Timber company for a _reason_. When push came to shove, the man could lead, and even inspire. Corcra appealed to the civilians' sense of community and family, while also emphasizing the supposed inevitability of their victory. Gawain absent-mindedly imagined the speech playing over a hypothetical G-Sec recruitment ad. It probably would've been very successful, as Gawain watched with no small amount of surprise as a few hundred able-bodied men and women stepped forward to help reinforce the Grunwald soldiers.

Corcra had the company's sergeants go through and assess the volunteers. Those that could shoot were armed with some of the spare dust rifles Grunwald Security had in stock. Most, however, would be armed with rudimentary melee weapons. The local blacksmiths had their workshops emptied, and farmers had their shovels and pitchforks sharpened into makeshift polearms. Corcra made sure every volunteer had some kind of weapon in hand, even going as far as to unstrap his own officer's sidearm to hand to a frightened looking rabbit faunus teenager.

By the time the sun began to sink into the western sky, quick drills were being run to try and provide some last-minute training to the new would-be warriors. If everything went according to plan, they wouldn't have to fight at all. They were told the most they might have to do would be delivering ammo or providing water and first-aid. In spite of the reassurances the soldiers gave the volunteers, many were gripping their weapons tightly.

As the sun descended over Ikebana's western forest, and the sky turned from blue to red to purple, a low rumble began to reverberate through the town. On the wall, the G-Sec scouts that had been dispatched to harass and lead the horde off had returned, exhausted in both body and ammunition. Their news was disheartening but not surprising: the horde was on its way in spite of the outriders picking off as many as they could. They pointed out that no matter how much they fired or how close they got to the horde, only a small groups would ever break off at a time, and the horde as a whole never broke formation. Gawain took note of their use of "formation". Even in such a large group, these Grimm organized. Not long after the scouts returned, sentries on the western wall reported that the trees of the forest had begun to move. The horde was here.

It was still summer, and the days were thankfully long. But when you're out and away from the big cities, darkness comes quickly after the sun sets. And there were no street lights or neon signs illuminating the forest. All the soldiers had were the lights from within the town and the faint glow of a quarter moon. Though, thanks to the advancements of modern technology, they also had night-vision binoculars to help size up their enemy.

The ground began to rumble at their approach, and seemed to go on for over an hour after darkness fell. All the while Gawain could faintly see dark shapes moving at the edge of Ikebana's forest, a few hundred meters away from his post atop the wall. Normally Gawain wouldn't be able to see anything at that distance with his poor nightvision, but the red glow of Grimm was hard to hide in the dark. There were so many of them. They made the forest look like a formless, writhing mass. Just looking at it made Gawain feel uneasy. But he forced himself to look at it all the same. These were the consequences of his actions standing in front of him.

"Alright listen up," Mond said, calling the Spear to attention. "Our job is to hold the west gate. We'll bottleneck them here and fight until the evacuation happens. We got about a hundred volunteers behind us just in case, but we won't need them. If any Grimm get over the wall or past the gate, I'll handle them. But until then, I'm going to be hanging back and charging my semblance. If you see a big Grimm, just holler and I'll head over. Gunner nests: keep those aerial Grimm off of us. Marksmen: pick off any problem Grimm you see getting funny ideas. Evergreen," Mond waited for Gawain to make eye contact with him, "Show me that you're not all talk."

Gawain nodded, and drew one of his rifles, holding the stock firmly to his shoulder.

"Let's do this right, collect our paychecks, and go home!" Mond finished, giving his chainsaw spear a quick rev. Most of the spear grunted or mumbled in the affirmative, not exactly enthused by their predicament.

Gawain held his position on the wall, and felt someone come up next to him. It was Dearg. Gawain had managed to avoid the sergeant since he had returned from his excursion, but it seemed that reprieve had come to an end. Gawain decided to be the first to break the silence.

"I owe you an apology." Gawain said.

"And I owe you a punch." Dearg replied. "But that will have to wait until after we get out of this mess."

"Agreed."

"So you're a private now, huh? Is that for real or no?"

"Try giving me an order and find out."

"Shine my boots, private."

Gawain gave Dearg a quick glance, arching an eyebrow. Dearg just shrugged.

"Worth a shot. Anyway, while I can't say I'm happy about it, I suppose you were right about all this Grimm business."

"Believe me when I say I was really hoping I'd be wrong."

"Still, I'd much rather fight them like this, with some preparation behind nice big walls. Not out there, flat-footed and unawares. If anything, you gave us a fighting chance."

"Are you trying to make me feel better about bringing a Grimm horde down on our heads?"

"Just trying to find the silver lining. Truth be told, I'd actually rather be fighting them from an airship, behind a few meters of solid steel and a very large gun."

Gawain chuckled, marking the first time he had managed to smile since he had set off to find the horde. "I suppose looking at the bright side can't hurt. Afterall, if we dwell on the negative, that means the Grimm win."

"Technically the Grimm win if they kill us all. But you're right, no sense dwelling on the negative. Though I can't help but wonder why they haven't attacked yet. What are they waiting-"

A roar. Loud, long, and deep. It cut through the entire town. Gawain felt his ribcage rattle in his chest. Many soldiers covered their ears. A few of the volunteers reflexively dropped their weapons. Gawain swore he felt the wall itself shake with the vibrations. Except, no, it wasn't the roar doing that. Gawain looked over the wall to see the shapeless mass of the horde begin to shift. Black forms dotted with dark red lights were swarming around on the ground and in the air.

"The hell was that?!" Dearg shouted. "Doesn't sound like any Grimm I've ever heard."

"Do you have any night-vision scopes?" Gawain asked.

Dearg pulled out a set of binoculars out of his side pouch and handed them to Gawain. Gawain scanned the tree line. The Grimm were on the move. Beowolves, Ursi, Beringals and more were moving frantically. At least, it seemed frantic at first. But as Gawain watched, he saw them arranging into groups. The various species of Grimm were distributed evenly among them, almost like platoons. And among the formations Gawain could see more Rakshasa moving behind, getting into their own positions. Gawain swept the trees, counting.

"One, two, three," Gawain relayed to Dearg, "Five...six, seven...eight, nine...gods, there's at least a dozen."

"A dozen what? Rakshasa?" Dearg asked. Gawain nodded.

"But where did that roar come from? It had to be something bigger than-"

Gawain nearly dropped the binoculars as he laid his eyes on it. It was huge, at least twice the size of the Rakshasa he fought in the forest in both height and width. It's head was wider, with the skull plating fanning out slightly, and the two bony spikes on the bottom jaw were longer and hooked upwards. The two arms on the underside of the Rakshasa were small enough to almost be vestigial, but not on this beast. Its under arms were fully developed, and muscled. So much so that it looked like they had pushed the two sickle-bladed arms upward onto the shoulders. And unlike the other Rakshasas, this one did not move about with predatory grace. It sat on its haunches, which still left it towering over any other Grimm close to it. There it sat, facing the town.

"What is it?" Dearg asked. "What do you see?"

Gawain swallowed. "I found it."

"Found what?"

"The commander."

The giant Rakshasa reared its head back and split the air with another horrific roar. A tidal wave of Grimm began rushing Ikebana's wall.

The Siege of Ikebana had begun.


	10. The Siege of Ikebana

The fastest Grimm came first. Beowolves in full sprint, Boarbatusks rolling like demented wheels, King Taijitus slithering with lightning speed, and Manticores swooping in from above. They were first to die.

A little less than two hundred meters before the wall, the ground beneath the Grimm erupted with fire and earth. The Dust mines did their jobs well, shredding the Grimm as they passed over them. Meanwhile the grenade launcher and gun placements began to fire on the Manticores. The Manticores' maws erupted as they returned fire, but the Grunwald guns out-ranged them. They dropped from the sky in droves, bursting into black smoke as they collided with the ground. And in spite of all of this, the Grimm advance did not slow in the slightest.

"Hold your fire!" Dearg instructed. "Wait for them to reach the second line! Make every shot count!"

The second line consisted of the Atlesian Hedgehogs. The giant metal spikes were too heavy for the small Grimm to move, so it would blunt their progress. As the Grimm approached, a few of the Beowolves managed to vault clear over them and continue sprinting. However, some of them hesitated. Their caution was rewarded with the Grimm behind them shoving them onto the spikes, impaling them. However, most Grimm were smart enough to go over, under, or around the spikes. And that is when they met gunfire.

Grunwald rifles cracked and burned as the soldiers sniped the Grimm that made it past the second line, less than a hundred meters from the wall. The Grimm that made it through first tended to be smaller and therefore younger and less tough. The bullets ripped through them with ease. And because there were so many of them, it was hard not to miss simply by firing downrange. It was here that the Grimm assault had its first real lull, much like when a wave of water hits an empty trench. But eventually that trench would fill, and the wave would continue. That occurred when the larger, stronger Grimm reached the line.

Now the bullets were becoming less effective. The elder Grimm needed more shots to be brought down, and rounds were beginning to be deflected by their bony armor. These were the Grimm Gawain had been waiting for.

Gawain had held back on firing for two reasons. The first was that he never considered himself much of a marksman. He could be accurate to a point, able to reliably hit a target's center mass at close to medium range, but he wasn't a sharpshooter. So he waited for the Grimm to get closer before firing. The second was that his weapons were custom made to chamber larger, more powerful ammunition than what most of the other soldiers used. Unlike their weapons, his could take down the stronger Grimm with a single, well-placed shot.

Gawain's first target was a large Beowolf, one that was not quite an Alpha but definitely bigger and stronger than the ones next to it. Bissingehund roared, and the beast's skull exploded. His first kill of the night. Gawain continued in this fashion, selecting and firing on the bigger Grimm as they made their run for the wall. For several minutes, not a single Grimm had managed to make it within thirty meters of the wall. But their ammunition was not infinite, and their weapons needed to reload. And on top of all this, large Beringals and Ursi had made it to the hedgehogs. Unlike the smaller, more agile Grimm in front of them, they had begun to push the metal obstacles out of their way, making a path for more of their smaller brethren.

The wave of Grimm once more began to surge, closer and closer to the wall. Gawain picked up his pace, emptying both of his weapons into the oncoming tide. Every round found a target, but the flood of Grimm would not be impeded. Thirty meters. Twenty meters. Ten meters.

The Grimm crashed against the wall with such force that Gawain had to brace himself against the rampart to steady himself. He saw a few of the soldiers in the First Spear actually lose their footing and stumble. Fortunately the wall was thick and sturdy. All of the Grimm pushing against it did not budge a single stone.

"Deploy bayonets!" Gawain shouted as he transformed Bissingehunde into their saber forms. "Prepare for close-quarters combat!"

A few of the soldiers looked curiously at him. In the heat of the moment, Gawain had forgotten he had been demoted. Fortunately Dearg backed him up.

"You heard the man, deploy bayonets!"

The Grunwald Dust rifles had bayonets built into the weapons that folded outward with the flip of a switch, turning each rifle into a makeshift shortspear. Typically a weapon of last resort, as a Grimm within stabbing range was also close enough to eviscerate a typical soldier. With the knives out, the Grunwald troops aimed their weapons downwards at the base of the wall in front of them and began to fire.

Once again, accuracy wasn't so much an issue as was volume. Pointing the muzzles of their guns down was all that was necessary to hit a Grimm. But the Grimm were a writhing mass at the base of the wall. They clawed at the foundation, trying to find purchase to climb. That would prove difficult, as the Grunwalds had taken the liberty of coating the western wall in motor oil, lubricant, and any kind of grease that could be collected from every kitchen in the town. As the Grimm tried to scale the wall, they found themselves slipping and falling over themselves. Further down from Gawain, about a dozen meters to his right, Boarbatusks and Beowolves clawed and gnashed at Ikebana's western gate.

The gate was built from heavy wood and reinforced with metal braces, making it resistant to battering. And the Grunwalds had also spent some of the afternoon bolting metal beams to the inner side and placing a couple of Atlesian hedgehogs behind it for good measure. The First Spear had been set up around the gate, knowing that it would be the Grimm's primary target. It just needed to hold until the Orthrus arrived. As did the soldiers guarding it. For however long that would be.

The plan from this point forward was to pace themselves. Make sure the gate didn't collapse, and prevent any Grimm from climbing over the wall. To prevent the latter, the soldiers needed to kill enough Grimm to keep them from piling onto each other while also doing their best to preserve their ammo. So far, everything had gone more or less as they had planned.

Suddenly, a streak of white burst upward from the Grimm mass. The white head of a King Taijitu, extending its full length upwards to the top of the wall, directly to the left of Gawain. It's jaws opened wide, fangs extended. Gawain deftly leapt to his right to dodge, but the Taijitu missed him by a wide margin. Too wide. To Gawain's surprise, the beast had clamped down, not on him, but on the wall's edge, its fangs sinking deep. Gawain paused in confusion. Had the Grimm intended to get itself stuck?

But before Gawain could think on it further, he saw dark shapes scurrying up the length of the Taijitu's body. Beowolves.

 _A ladder!_ Gawain thought. _A living ladder!_

Gawain moved quickly, bringing one of his sabers up over his head and down onto the base of the Taijitu's scaly neck, cleaving straight through and scarring the stone underneath. With its head severed, the body began to flail wildly, flinging the unfortunate Beowolves that had been attempting to climb it back into the crowd below.

As the white head dissolved into nothingness, Gawain saw with horror that this was not the only Taijitu scaling the wall. There were at least a dozen of them, spaced evenly apart, all securely latched onto the wall with agile beowolves scrambling up them like demonic spiders. He saw several soldiers stabbing the Taijitu in the head with their bayonets, trying to dislodge them. Gawain could tell by the lack of red light in their eyes that the soldiers were indeed killing the heads, but that alone would not be enough. Taijitu have two heads, and as long as one head remained alive, the rest of the body would not dissolve.

"Cut them off!" Gawain yelled. "You have to cut off the heads or they'll stay attached!"

Without missing a beat, Dearg deployed his arm blade and chopped away at one of the Taijitu heads. After three heavy swings, the head was severed. But the other fireteams were having a tougher time. Their bayonets were meant for stabbing, not cutting.

Gawain cursed, and rushed over to the nearest Taijitu. He managed to get to it just as a Beowolf crested over the wall. With a mighty swing he cut off the head and watched as the body recoiled and writhed, launching the hapless Beowolf into the air.

"Dearg, help me cut the heads!" Gawain ordered, once again forgetting his rank. "Everyone else, focus on the climbers! Keep them off the wall!"

Dearg and Gawain took off in opposite directions, Gawain taking the southern Taijitu and Dearg taking the northern side. As Gawain arrived at the next snake, two Beowolves had already managed to make it to the wall. One soldier of fireteam Falchion had already pierced one of their chests with his bayonet, and was firing his rifle repeatedly at point blank range. After a few shots, the beast slumped, and smoke began to trail off of its body. The other soldier was less lucky. The Beowolf had its jaws snapped around the barrel of her rifle as she struggled to keep it from tackling her off the ledge. Gawain holstered one of his weapons and grabbed the Beowolf by the neck with his free hand. He squeezed his grip tight, feeling the bones beneath the flesh crunch, forcing the Beowolf to relinquish its grasp. With a heave, Gawain wrenched the Beowolf away from the rifleman and into another Beowolf that had just finished its climb, sending them both back over into the blackness below. As he had done with the others, Gawain parted the Taijitu's head from its body.

Further down, the situation was growing more desperate as more and more Beowolves made the climb faster than the soldiers could put them down. Gawain cleared two more Taijitus, helping the soldiers deal with the Grimm that had cleared the wall at each. But as he had the last of the southern Taijitus in sight, he heard it. A scream.

A Beringal, a large monstrous parody of a gorilla, had climbed the final Taijitu before Gawain could reach it. It batted aside one rifleman, and held another by his head in one of its grotesque hands. The captured soldier screamed and kicked in a futile attempt to free himself. Gawain felt his heart drop into his stomach. He launched himself toward the monster grasping his comrade. He tapped into his semblance, for anything that could give him a little more speed.

 _No._

He was five meters away when the Beringal squeezed its hand.

 _No no no!_

He was three meters away when the wet crunch made the soldier's body go limp.

 _NO!_

He was only one meter away when the Beringal cast his lifeless body into the sea of Grimm on the other side of the wall.

Gawain roared, slicing the beast's arm off at the elbow. The Beringal roared in return, but it was cut short by Gawain shoving the tip of his other sword in its mouth with enough force to explode out the back of the monster's head. Gawain rammed his other sword into its stomach, lifting the heavy creature into the air. Gawain flexed the muscles in his arms, shoulders, and chest, and ripped the aloft Beringal in two. He cast the evaporating pieces off of his blades and quickly hewed through the last Taijitu.

 _I'll make sure my death comes before anyone else._ His own words rang inside his mind. His promise. His broken promise.

 _My fault. This is all my fault._

But Gawain did not have time to contemplate grief, as he heard more cries and shouts behind him. More King Taijitu had begun latching themselves onto the wall. To make matters worse, the Grimm at the base had begun to literally dogpile on each other, forming climbable hills out of their own bodies.

"Grenades!" Gawain shouted as he ran to the nearest serpentine head, pointing one of his blades at the rising mound of Grimm. "Break up those piles!"

Gunfire, shouting, and cries of pain and surprise were now drowned out by the booms of explosives dispersing the stacked Grimm. In the midst of the chaos, Gawain managed to find Dearg again.

"Sergeant, bring up some of the volunteers, anyone with an ax or a sharp shovel! Have them hack at the Taijitu trying to form ladders!"

Dearg, at this point caring as little about the rank disparity as Gawain did, nodded and flagged down a soldier to send a message. Gawain returned to the fight.

Over the next hour, a routine had set in. The Taijitus and their hitch-hikers would attempt to scale the wall, while the soldiers fought them off and cut down the overgrown snakes. The volunteers helped in this regard, forming teams of two to hack away at the necks of the Taijitus. The lesser Grimm would pile together, forming mounds that needed to be dislodged by explosives. Every once in a while a Beringal would be able to make the leap to the top of the wall, where Gawain or Dearg would arrive to cut it down quickly. Fortunately, the strategy was working. The Grimm launched their assault directly at the western gate and seemed to have little interest in surrounding the town. Volunteers rushed up and down the stairs along the inside of the wall, carting ammo and water. The gun emplacements had thinned the swarm of Manticores significantly, though a few had melted their barrels doing so. But for the entire time, the Grimm maintained their press against the wall. Never tiring, never relenting.

Since their first casualty, five more Grunwald soldiers and seven volunteers had fallen. Another eight soldiers had been injured, unable to continue fighting. The first Spear felt every loss, and the pressure from the Grimm onslaught mounted. On top of that, ammunition was running thin. As the night dragged on, the soldiers were forced more into close combat with bayonets to conserve ammo. Each encounter brought the risk of being slashed, bitten, mangled, or snatched off of the wall. But Grunwald soldiers were the best in the world. Discipline and training kept them from faltering. For now.

 _This is all my fault._

Gawain's own thoughts invaded his mind as he bisected a Beowolf attempting to attack a volunteer working on a Taijitu ladder. He stabbed the one that followed it in the chest and shoved it back down the serpent's back, knocking a few more off along it's way. The volunteers finished their job and Gawain continued along the wall.

 _I got them killed._

Gawain sliced off the fingers of a Beringal that had managed to jump and grasp the ledge of the wall, sending it roaring back to the horde below. He ducked as a Manticore that had managed to avoid the gun emplacements swooped over them. He converted one of his swords back into a rifle and hit the flying fiend three times in the back, emptying his final clip. The beast crashed into a window of a nearby house. Gawain did not stop to see if it had died. He needed to focus on the battle; where to go and what to fight.

 _Why didn't I just run? Why did I provoke them into chasing me?_

He backhanded another Beowolf as it vaulted over the wall's ledge, sending some of its teeth flying, before kicking it off the wall into a mob of panicked volunteers who proceeded to frantically skewer it with their improvised spears. A set of volunteers next to Gawain finished severing a Taijitu's neck, but not before a Beringal made a desperate leap onto the wall as the body fell away.

Gawain swung at the simian fiend, but fatigue was finally beginning to take its toll, and the Beringal managed to catch his arm in its grasp mid-swing. Gawain snarled, lurched his arm to the side, causing the Beringal to lose its balance. Gawain reared back and slammed his forehead right into the monster's skull. His vision flashed white with pain, but he felt the Beringal released its hold on his arm. He raised both his blades in the air and brought them down hard onto the beast's shoulders, lopping off both of its arms. With a swift horizontal swing, Gawain removed the top half of the monster's head. The Beringal slumped and dissolved into black smoke. Gawain's head pounded. He stopped for a moment to regain his senses.

 _You know why._

Gawain opened his eyes and turned to see a massive Ursa that had managed to climb over a mound of stacked Grimm. He rushed to it, ducking under one of its over-sized paws as it took a swipe at him. He thrust one of his blades directly through the bottom of its jaw and into its brain. He placed one foot on the Ursa's chest, and with a roar he wrenched the blade back. Gawain's weapon exploded out the front of the Ursa's face. The carcass tumbled down the pile, knocking aside a few Grimm before evaporating into nothingness. Barely a second later, a grenade went off in front of him, dispersing the pile. The explosion left all four of his ears ringing.

 _Because you love this._

Gawain felt a rumbling shock travel from his feet all the way up his body. Something had it the wall fast and hard. It had come from the direction of the gate. As his hearing returned, Gawain heard the crack of wood and the groan of strained metal. He looked over the wall to see what was happening in front of it, and saw that the Grimm had actually backed away from it. But from the horde, devilish wheels flew at full speed directly at the reinforced doors. Boarbatusks. They hit the gate so hard that some of them died from the impact, but all that did was leave the way clear for even more of them to continue their bombardment, one after the other. Each impact twisting the frame and splintering the wood. The remaining soldiers were two busy dealing with the wall to kill the ramming Grimm. And the only ones close enough to defend the gate on the other side were about a hundred trembling volunteers.

 _More._

Gawain leapt from the wall to the street below him. The pounding on the gate took on a steady rhythm as he sprinted to it. Every hit saw the heavy doors warp and bend. Gawain slid to a stop in front of the volunteers, who all looked to him as if asking for guidance. From behind them, Gawain heard Mond shouting.

"Evergreen! What are you doing!? Get back to your post!" Gawain didn't even acknowledge him.

 _More._

Gawain planted his feet in front of the volunteers as the Grimm battered the gate, pieces exploding off of the inside with each hit. He pointed both of his swords in front of him.

"No matter what comes through that door, hold your ground!" Gawain commanded. "Keep your spears forward and do not follow me!"

The Boarbatusks continued to crash against the door. Mond continued to shout orders that Gawain ignored. Openings formed. Gawain could see the Grimm on the other side. Pitch black, blood red, and bone white. They were coming.

The doors burst open. A Boarbatusk came flying through, and landed directly onto one of the Atlesian hedgehogs that were behind the entrance. There was a pause as both sides took a moment to realize what had just happened. Then came the rush.

Grimm of all shapes and sizes poured into the entrance. The opening and the hedgehogs did a good job of bottlenecking them. A few Grimm even died as they were crushed by their bigger comrades, or impaled on the hedgehogs' spikes. But with the Grunwalds' firepower being used to secure the wall and the sky, there was little to be spared for these invaders. It was going to come down to melee combat.

At last, the Grimm bulk managed to push past the barricade and towards Gawain and his volunteers. Gawain moved first, once again tapping into his semblance. He relieved a Beringal of its head, and followed by impaling a Beowolf through the chest. A Boarbatusk rolled its way to him, but Gawain lunged to the side and kicked it as it passed him, sending it off balance enough to crash elsewhere. Based on the squeals he heard, he assumed the volunteers finished it off. Gawain pressed forward. He put power into every swing, making sure each blow would be a killing one.

 _This is what you live for._

More Beowolves and Ursi followed, pouring through the gate. Any that got close to Gawain fell to the ground in pieces. Many broke away and instead went for the volunteers. Gawain paid them no mind. He couldn't, not now. He kept his attention to what was in front of him.

 _The hunt._

Gawain's swords bit into their black hides, parting limbs from bodies. He kept moving, dancing in and out of the Grimm's attack range. Spinning, lungeing, slashing, striking.

 _The fight._

His lungs burned, his muscles screamed. Sweat was pouring from him, soaking through his clothes. He clenched his teeth so tightly he felt they might crack under the pressure.

 _The kill._

His aura felt like it was about to break. The Grimm surged over their compatriots, unflinching in the face of how many Gawain cut down. His vision began to blur, and the chaotic noise of battle became muted.

 _Stop hiding from what you are._

Gawain's heart pounded in his chest, he felt like every blood vessel in his body was about to burst. But the Grimm did not stop, and neither could he. He tapped his semblance for more. More strength, more speed, more ferocity. He reached deep, deeper than he had ever reached before.

 _Not a soldier. Not a spy._

Gawain thrust his blade into an Ursa, but it took the blow and opened its maw to bite down on his head. Gawain jerked back just as the jaws snapped closed, and brought his head back onto the beast's own with enough force to knock it to the ground. He brought his foot up and stomped down on its head as hard as he could. He felt his foot sink into the Ursa's skull with a satisfying crunch.

One of his swings caught a Beringal in the arm. The monstrous gorilla jerked its arm and wrenched the blade out of Gawain's left hand. Gawain used the free hand to smack the Beringal in the side of the head.

 _THIS is what you are._

But to Gawain's surprise, the blow had ripped the Beringal's jaw and a decent amount of its throat off. He had not anticipated than an open-hand strike would do so much damage. The Beringal looked just as shocked as it gurgled and collapsed to the ground, dead. But in the midst of his unexpected victory, a Boarbatusk came spinning in from his right. Gawain raised his remaining sword to block, but in the end only managed to deflect the attack. The impact knocked his sword loose from his grip, sending it clattering to the ground several meters away from him. Another Ursa followed behind the Boarbatusk, seizing the opportunity to strike its now unarmed prey. It reared on its hind legs to attack with claws and jaws. Reflexively, Gawain spun around and thrust his right hand straight into the ursa's center mass, right between its extended arms and open mouth.

His arm plunged into the beast's chest, sinking in all the way to the elbow. Half surprised and half panicked, Gawain quickly withdrew his arm as the Ursa likewise recoiled from the unexpected attack. Black ichor oozed from the gaping wound Gawain left, and a dim red light shone through.

Gawain took the opening and leapt upon the wounded Ursa. He did not strike it with fists or kicks, like he had been trained to do. No, he lashed out with savage swipes, slashing the Ursa to ribbons. His fingers parted it's flesh so easily, ripping away chunks with every swing. The Ursa fell onto its back as Gawain ripped into it. Within moments, the Ursa was barely recognizable, a ruined mess of black and red.

Gawain stood upon the disintegrating remains of his kill, as Grimm slowly formed up to encircle him. And at that moment, Gawain was stricken by a revelation.

 _It's just like Beacon._

Grimm on all sides. Homes under siege. Comrades and civilians fighting for their lives. The smell of blood, sweat, and smoke. The cries of pain and fear. And Gawain, fighting in the middle of all of it.

 _Then I had fought with restraint,_ Gawain told himself. _I worried about what others thought of me. I wanted them to see a knight in shining armor, not a savage animal. I believed my rage and love of fighting were evil; something to be ashamed of. So I bottled them up, hid them away beneath a veneer of honor and chivalry._

Gawain took a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs. A sudden relaxation fell over his entire body.

 _But they're not evil. They're weapons. Only as evil as the one who uses them._

He leaned forward, adjusting his posture into a fighting stance. But not one he had ever used before. A new one. A natural one.

 _And it's time I unsheathed them._

It was like a dam had burst in his soul. Power from his semblance surged throughout his body as he felt his very aura change and warp around him, covering him like armor. No, like fur. Black, ephemeral fur that gave off a faint green glow; covering his arms and legs. His soul laid bare for the world to see. And for the first time in a long time, Gawain felt wide awake.


	11. Predator Soul

The world suddenly became sharper. Colors were more striking, contrast had deepened, sounds and scents were clear, the air felt cooler. Gawain's fatigue left him, his body suddenly becoming lighter. And oddly enough, he felt slightly taller.

The Grimm in front of him paused. It is considered common knowledge that Grimm do not feel fear. They do, however, have some sense of self-preservation. It has little to do with a desire to survive, and more with the desire to be efficient. Grimm have little motivation beyond seeking the destruction of humans, and walking mindlessly into a preventable death would detract from that objective. And yet there was something about what was in front of them, something about Gawain, that told them that to step forward was to meet a swift and fruitless demise.

So Gawain stepped forward first, baring his aura-constructed fangs and claws. He unleashed a storm of lightning fast swipes upon the witless monsters in front of him. His fingers passed through their flesh and bones like a hot knife through butter. The Grimm before him scattered in a flurry of dismembered chunks. Without his swords, Gawain needed to get closer to deal lethal damage. Thankfully, his newly reinforced legs propelled him with vicious speed and agility. He danced and weaved through the Grimm crowding the gate entrance, rending and ripping as he went. The Grimm were caught flatfooted. Gawain didn't want to give them a chance to think. He struck fast and hard, throwing himself into the heart of their formation.

After a few seconds the remaining Grimm regained their senses, but by then Gawain had already slaughtered half of the number that had made it through the gate. The Grimm renewed their attack, but to Gawain they were just so slow. He easily evaded every swipe, bite, and strike. He grabbed a Boarbatusk by its tusks mid-spin, and used it like a bludgeon to crush the skull of an Ursa. He ripped the arm off a Beowulf and plunged it claws-first into the chest of a Beringal. In the midst of the chaos, a King Taijitu and managed to slither in through the gate. Its swift black head weaved in and out between its fellow Grimm to strike at Gawain, mouth open and fangs extended. Gawain caught the serpent by it's jaws, holding the top and bottom apart. With a heave, he ripped the Taijitu in half lengthwise, killing the black head. The other half of the Taijitu attempted to withdraw, but Gawain did not relinquish is grip. Grasping both halves of the dead Taijitu head, Gawain planted his feet and pulled with all of his strength. The Taijitu's bulk knocked aside dozens of Grimm as Gawain forcibly dragged it through the gate. Gawain spun, maintaining the momentum of the drag, and lifted his end of the beast into the air. The white head came screeching through the gate entrance, and found itself being whipped through towards the sky. The thing must've been at least 15 meters long from head to head. Gawain continued his spin, using centripetal force to lift the white head higher and higher into the air. More Grimm began to file into through the gate, which is just what Gawain wanted.

Gawain stopped his spin, and using all the power in his arms, shoulders, core, and back, brought the full force of the Taijitu's whirling mass down on the unwitting invaders. The crash resounded like thunder throughout the western wall. The shockwave from the impact blasted Grimm on both sides of the entrance, sending them flying. The Taijitu, naturally, died on contact, as did any Grimm unfortunate enough to be directly underneath it. The smoke from the dead Grimm was so thick that Gawain couldn't even see the gate anymore. But his other senses were still keen. He could hear large foot falls coming from the other side of the gate, and could smell the acrid aroma of burning metal and seared meat fast approaching.

Striding menacingly through the evaporating remains of its kin came the Rakshasa, roaring furiously as it passed through the gate just barely big enough to allow it through. If Gawain had to guess, the Grimm appeared rather furious that its breach of the gate was stalling out, and it had come to sort things out personally. The beast fixed its gaze immediately on Gawain, as if it somehow knew he was the source of its frustrations. It snarled and raised it's sickle blades in a stance identical to the one Gawain had fought all those weeks ago. Gawain had managed to fight on even footing with the Rakshasa then, but he also had his swords on hand. Though he was without Bissingehunde, he was not without weapons. He flexed his clawed fingers, eager to test them against the Rakshasa's hide.

The Rakshasa roared and charged, and Gawain responded in kind. The monster readied a sickle for a swipe at Gawain's head, but Gawain darted underneath the blade and went straight for the beast's hind legs. He raked his claws against the dark flesh of the Grimm's forward leg, ripping through what passed for its muscles and tendons. Without pausing, Gawain leapt for the rear leg, slashing it just as deep. The sudden lack of stability threw the Rakshasa off balance, forcing it to use its sickle blades to keep itself from toppling over.

Gawain did not stop. He maintained his momentum and ran from underneath the Rakshasa to the wall. As he reached it, he planted his clawed feet against the stone and propelled himself upward along the wall's surface. Just as he neared the top, he pushed off the wall back towards the teetering Rakshasa. The Grimm must have somehow sensed something approaching from behind it, as all three of the tentacles on its back whipped towards Gawain as he flew. Gawain twisted his body, sending him into a spin. Just as the tendrils got close to him, he extended all four of his limbs, flexing his fingers and toes. His claws shredded the tentacles into useless black chunks. Gawain came out of the spin just in time to grab onto the bone plates on the Rakshasa's back. The Grimm did not take kindly to this, and began to buck and shake its whole body violently to throw Gawain off.

Gawain held fast to the bone plate as the monstrosity thrashed, his finger muscles reinforced by his semblance. Eventually the bone itself began to loosen from the stress, and just as it threatened to wrench free Gawain flung himself towards the Rakshasa's head. He wrapped his arms around its snout, and forced his toe claws into the flesh of its neck. The Rakshasa roared in agony and fury and shook its head violently. Gawain responded with a punch right into one of its many eye sockets. His fist sank deep, popping the orange-red eye inside. The partially blind Rakshasa screeched, but Gawain held tight. He began to shift his weight from side to side, forcing the creature's head to do the same. Each shift built a little momentum until finally Gawain managed to force the Rakshasa's entire body to twist and fall onto the ground, lest it break its own neck from the torque. Having taken the grapple to the ground, Gawain released his toes and planted his feet on the hard stone floor. He forced the Rakshasa's snout upwards, forcing its neck to bend at an awkward angle. With a roar, Gawain placed both of his clawed hands on the tip of its nose and pushed down with everything he had.

A deafening SNAP split the air like a rifle as the Rakshasa went limp. Slowly, its body began to dissolve into black vapor.

Gawain whirled around, fangs and claws ready to meet whatever Grimm came next. But no other Grimm rushed to challenge him. In fact, all along the walls and beyond the gate, they were conspicuously still. It was not hesitation, as it had been when Gawain first activated his semblance. That pause had been born of caution. This was more like...confusion? It was as if the Grimm had suddenly forgotten where they were and what they were doing. The soldiers and volunteers used the opportunity to quickly clear out the closest enemies and resume their defense. The Grimm, having realized that there were humans around, likewise resumed their attack.

But it was different now. The attack was no longer coordinated. Rather than forming ladders, King Taijitu were recklessly attacking the wall on their own. Ursi and Beringals crushed smaller Grimm in their way or batted them aside to get at the closest human. They were so clumsy that they were having trouble getting into the gate, and threatened to plug it with their own impatient bulk.

Gawain readied himself for the next wave of incoming beasts, but the sounds of frenzied combat were drowned out by another thunderous roar. It was a sound Gawain recognized: the giant Rakshasa.

Just as the roar quieted, all Grimm immediately broke off their attacks and moved back from the walls and gate. Grunwald soldiers continued to fire on them as they fled, while the volunteers let out cheers of victory. It was a retreat.

Gawain was struck by a mix of pride and disappointment. He hated that the Grimm were falling back; that he didn't kill more of them. But the feeling soon passed, replaced by overwhelming relief. And no sooner than it did, Gawain's semblance fizzled out along with any remaining dregs of his aura.

The weight of the world came crashing down on his shoulders. Gawain's legs buckled and he collapsed onto the ground. He tried, and failed, to lift his arms. His entire body was burning with pain. His vision blurred and it was all he could do just take long steady breaths to keep from blacking out. It seemed his newfound power was not without drawbacks afterall.

Gawain struggled to turn his head. He remembered all of the Grimm that had rushed by him at the start of the breach. He braced himself to see more fallen volunteers.

There were none. Instead, standing between the fallen Gawain and a line of startled volunteers was Mond. His chainsaw-spear slowly whirred to a stop, and he was breathing heavily. No Grimm that made it past Gawain had managed to reach a civilian. The breach of the gate had been brought to a grinding halt by two huntsmen.

"That," Mond said, "was the craziest thing I've ever seen in all my years of being a huntsman." He secured his spear in a magnetic clasp behind his back and walked up to Gawain, extending a hand. "Your semblance, I take it?"

"Yeah," Gawain gasped. He weakly reached out and grasped Mond's hand but all he could manage was to sit up.

"Might I suggest leading with that next time? It's a hell of a show."

"If I'm being perfectly honest, that's the first time I've ever done...that. I didn't even know I could until I did."

"Well, for what it's worth, it worked. The Grimm have pulled back from the wall and the gate, it'll give us a chance to close it and reinforce it again. Hell, the Grimm might even disperse after that."

"No," Gawain said, trying to get his legs under himself to stand, "that wasn't a rout. It was a tactical withdrawal. The Grimm just lost one of their commanders. You saw it, their combat discipline fell apart as soon as the Rakshasa died."

"Not just that, they completely froze, like their server connections just dropped in a game."

"Where's Corcra, we need to-" Gawain attempted to stand but his legs didn't have the strength and he hit the ground again.

"Easy there, killer." Mond reassured. "Sit tight, I'll find him." Mond took off in a light jog along the wall, asking for the captain. Gawain took the opportunity to gently lay his back on the cold stone beneath him and just breath. Every muscle hurt; a dull throbbing soreness. It reminded him of when he had first began his huntsman training as a boy. Gawain knew that he would be unable to move for the immediate future, and desperately prayed that the Grimm would take their sweet time regrouping.

A small, brown-haired woman popped into his vision. She was grasping a makeshift spear fashioned from a farming scythe. One of the volunteers.

"Excuse me, sir?" She quietly asked "Are you alright?"

At that moment, Gawain realized that seeing one of their defenders suddenly collapse to the ground was the last thing the volunteers needed. Mustering up a surge of energy, Gawain managed to sit upright.

"Yes! Yes, I'm fine." Gawain lied. "Just...need a second to catch my breath."

"That was amazing!" Another volunteer from the crowd cheered. "You destroyed all those Grimm by yourself, even that big one! Can all huntsmen do that?"

"I don't know...maybe? I'm sure there are other huntsmen who could."

"How did you turn into that scary wolf thing?" A different volunteer asked.

"Wolf...thing?" Gawain stammered. "I...think it was my semblance."

"You think?" Other volunteers began bombarding him with questions.

"Can you do it again?"  
"Are the other huntsmen here as strong as you?"

"Where did the Grimm go?"  
"Did we win?"

"I...I don't know...I…"Gawain trailed off. All the strain of the night made it hard to gather his thoughts.

"Alright, alright! Ease off of him!" ordered the woman who had first approached him. She turned back to Gawain, placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady. "Is there anything we can get you?"

"Water!" Gawain immediately replied. "And...food of some kind. Anything with a lot of carbs. Rations if you can get them."

"You heard him!" The woman shouted back to the crowd. "Food and water, and be quick about it!"

A few of the volunteers took off, and the rest took some steps back to give Gawain some breathing room.

"Thank you." Gawain sighed.

"We should be thanking you. You and yours have been fighting all this time without rest. All we've done up til now is do our best to not get in your way. Y'know, I wasn't exactly gung-ho when the mayor said the kingdom was sending mercenaries to protect us. I'll be singing a different tune now, that's for sure."

Gawain felt his insides squirm as thoughts of guilt danced in his head. A part of him wanted to tell her that it was his fault the Grimm were attacking in the first place. But a colder, more logical part told him not to squander the morale his brief victory had bought. After a night of horrors, the civilians needed a win.

A few moments later, a volunteer jogged up with a canteen, and other with some bread and a few strips of dried jerky.

Gawain inhaled the food and drained the canteen. He hadn't realized how hungry and dehydrated he was until he was already eating. He drank the water so fast that he nearly drowned himself and coughed some of it up. How ironic it would've been for Gawain to survive up until now only to choke to death on a snack.

Gawain thanked the volunteers and remained seated to let the contents of his stomach settle. Strength was already beginning to return to his limbs by the time Mond returned with Corcra in tow.

"I see you're still in one peice, Private Evergreen." The captain panted. "Sitrep?"

Gawain finally managed to muster the energy to stand on his own. "We repelled a breach of the gate, sir. All invading Grimm were destroyed, including a Rakshasa. The Grimm retreated soon after."

"I heard as much from Mond. It also sounded like you were holding out on us. I saw nowhere in your profile that you had a semblance, let alone one so powerful."

"I was equally as surprised, sir."

"Well, I'm not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. This reprieve will give us time to sure up the defense and hopefully last long enough to-"

Yet another roar, the same as the one that halted the Grimm advance before, rumbled through the night.

"Captain!" shouted a voice from atop the wall. "You should see this!"

Corcra and Mond quickly scaled the walls with Gawain lagging behind. He was having trouble getting his legs to cooperate with the stairs. As he reached the top, he saw Corcra holding night-vision binoculars.

"Gods beyond…" he uttered breathlessly.

Gawain looked out beyond the battlements. He could see shapes moving. Red streaks began to rushing outwards, parallel to the town's wall and staying just out of firing range.

"They're encircling the town!" Corcra spat. "Dearg! Get on the radio and warn the other fireteams! They're calling our bluff!" Dearg did as ordered, and Corcra turned back to Gawain and Mond."Can you two still fight."

"I can," Mond retorted. "Not sure about Evergreen. He used a lot at the gate."

Gawain shook his head. "I'm good." he lied. "Just tell me where you need me to go."

Corcra nodded. He handed his binoculars to Mond and pointed out into the darkness.

"That's where I need you two to go."

"Excuse me?" Mond protested.

"Look." Corcra held out the binoculars. "Make sure Evergreen sees too."

Mond looked through the binoculars, and tilted his head curiously. He handed them over to Gawain, while asking "What does that look like to you?"

Gawain peered into the green-filtered night. He could see the giant Rakshasa, it had not moved from its original position. On either side of it were two of the normal Rakshasa, and surrounding them was an assortment of other Grimm. But the majority of the horde had dispersed to surround the town. These Grimm were all that remained facing the western gate.

"An honor guard?" Gawain proposed.

"They hammered us for an hour straight." Corcra stated. "They might have assumed the rest of the wall was just as well defended, and so kept attacking the same spot to try and break us. But it seems they've caught on and are now doing exactly what we hoped they wouldn't. It's that big one. It's the key. Whenever it roars, every single Grimm reacts to it. It has to be the one calling the shots."

"We don't know that for sure." Mond challenged. "And even if we did, so what? You want us to run out there over open ground and attack it directly, with all of it's back-up?"

"No, not entirely." Corcra turned to Gawain: "How many do you think, Evergreen?"

Gawain looked back into the binoculars. He focused on the Grimm's outlines, trying to get an accurate count.  
"Well there's the big one. The normal Rakshasas, two of them. King Taijitu, two of them. About a dozen or so Ursi and just as many Beringals. Boarbatusks, about ten. And Beowolves...maybe fifty plus change."

Corcra scoffed. "Compared to what we've been up against so far, those seem like rather manageable numbers."

"Yeah, from a fortified position." Mond retorted. "But what're we gonna do, have me take the fifty on the left and Evergreen the fifty on the right?"

"No, you leave them to us."

"'Us'?"

Corcra snatched the binoculars from Gawain and walked along the wall towards the gate.

"Dearg!" he shouted. "Headcount! How many can still fight?"

Dearg, having relayed the warning to the other fireteams, answered with "By my count? Thirty, including us. Running low on ammunition though."

"I figured as much," Corcra muttered. "Alright, gather up the volunteers. I have orders for them."

Dearg rounded up all the Grunwald soldiers who could still stand, and brought them and the Volunteers to the Western gate. They were all exhausted, on the verge of collapse. The volunteers were less so, but instead of fatigue they were wracked with anxiety. And then Corcra began to speak.

"Listen up, I'm about to relay the final orders for this mission. These orders aren't just for my soldiers, but for you all as well. At this point, there's no point in sugarcoating it: the town is about to be surrounded. Very soon, the Grimm will begin assaulting the walls on all sides, where our defense is much thinner. It will only be a matter of time before the soldiers there are overwhelmed, and the Grimm close in on us."

The volunteers were, understandably, not pleased to hear this news. But Corcra pressed on.

"I do not know how long until our reinforcements will arrive. But I will not lie and say that all we need to do is hold out here and wait. The Grimm will make it here before help arrives. And even after how many we destroyed, there will still be too many for us to fight off, even with cover."

Silence fell over the crowd. A few of the volunteers collapsed. A few vomited, others began to weep and cling to each other.

"I owe you all an apology. We were supposed to protect you, to put your minds at ease. We have failed. And now I must make one last desperate request. Evergreen! Mond! Come up here."

Both Gawain and Mond strode up to the captain's side. Gawain did his best to stand straight, and hide his weakness.

"We are here because we chose this life." Corcra stated. "But you are here because when faced with a threat, you would rather fight than hide. I need that courage now, more than ever. Because if we choose to hide now, we are all dead. But if you can still fight, there might be a way to win this."

One of the volunteers, the young woman that had helped Gawain before, stepped forward.

"What do we have to do?" She asked, her voice trembling. "I'll do it, just tell us how we can win."

Many in the crowd voiced their agreement, clinging desperately to hope. Corcra nodded in response.

"Very well," Corcra cleared his throat. "As you may have noticed, this attack on your town was highly coordinated. Under normal circumstances, a Grimm horde this large wouldn't be able to move in such a way, but we have identified how they are accomplishing it." Corcra gestured to the gate behind him. "Beyond that gate, about 300 meters, is a massive Grimm. You've no doubt heard its roaring throughout the battle. This creature is a commander-type. It is the lynchpin holding this horde together. And now that the horde is so spread apart, if it dies, the horde will disperse."

Gawain winced at that. They had no proof that the horde would disperse if the leader was killed. It was merely a hypothesis. Just another lie to add to the pile.

"But there is a problem." Corcra continued. "Nearly a hundred Grimm stand between us and that monster, across an open field outside of our weapons range. Leaving us with only one option: a bayonet charge."

"A bayonet charge?" questioned a voice from the crowd.

"Yes. Just like they used to do before the Great War. We're going to charge right out of the gate, spears forward. But we're not going to simply try to smash into their center mass. We're going to bait the Grimm into a counter-charge towards us. And before our lines meet, we'll plant our feet and impale the beasts. But our goal will not be to destroy the Grimm, but distract them. While these Grimm are busy fighting us, our huntsmen will do their jobs." Corcra gestured to Gawain and Mond. "Most of you have seen them in action already, and you know what they can do. Mundane weapons will likely not be enough to damage the commander Grimm. These two are the only ones who can take it down. While we're distracting the main Grimm horde, these two will sneak around their formation and assassinate the big bastard.

I'm not going to lie. There will be casualties in this operation. My men have trained to lay down their lives, but you have not. I will understand if you want to spend your last moments with your families. But know that if this maneuver fails, if we can't destroy the commander, then death is assured. Not just for you, but for every soul in this town. If that sounds harsh, it's because it is. Time is a commodity we cannot afford. We of Grunwald Security know what we will do. Our course of action has been decided. But what will you do? Hide, and lie to your loved ones telling them everything will be alright? Or fight, and stand before your enemies and tell them 'No further!'? Choose quickly!"

Gunfire and explosions echoed in the distance.

"It's already started." Corcra sighed. "The moment of truth. If you're with us, step forward!"

And they did. All of them.


End file.
